Of Curses and Healing
by Cithara
Summary: ON HIATUS. When Harry is hit by a rogue curse whilst working on a mission as an Auror, he must return to England to seek help for a cure. However, coming back means facing things that he's been running from for years and facing the person he left behind. Can he reconcile himself to his feelings and find a means to heal in more ways than one? Canon Divergent/EWE
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Hi to all, as with all my fics, this parts company with cannon somewhere around the middle of Book 6; Dumbledore is still alive, the epilogue never happened and DTH is not really adhered to. This will probably a four-parter, and I'll be updating the 2nd part soon. In the meantime, I hope enjoy you enjoy part 1.

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Part 1

Harry waited outside Ron's office, tapping the side of his leg agitatedly. It wasn't the first place he would have chosen to spend his afternoon, and part of him was more apprehensive than he would care to admit at the thought of seeing his friend again after so many months of absence. Still, it was an undeniable fact that Ron was the best, and the best was what he needed right now.

He stole a glance around at the other people sitting in the waiting room with him and entertained himself briefly by looking from person to person and trying to guess what their afflictions might be. He supposed he'd get no prizes for surmising that the witch carrying her eyeballs in a glass jar had been hit with a blinding curse, albeit one with a black sense of humour. The others were less obvious, and he assumed that they were all suffering with unseen issues, as he was.

He uncrossed and crossed his legs for the hundredth time and snuck another glance at the clock on the wall; any hope he might have had at being given special treatment by Ron was clearly a false one. He sighed and was about to give in and equip himself with a horrific magazine when the door to his right opened and a man roughly his own age poked his head out and said,

"Dr Weasley will see you now."

Harry nodded and stood, following the man through into the office. Dr Weasley, Harry thought with a not unfamiliar jolt of disbelief. The level that Ron had risen to was now so high that he had earnt the right to be addressed as 'Dr', rather than simply 'Healer' and at 26 it was an achievement that Harry had a hard time reconciling himself to sometimes.

Ron's assistant showed Harry through and directed him to take a seat in front of the large, ornate desk, assuring him that Ron wouldn't be long. Harry certainly hoped not; he'd had more than enough of waiting that afternoon and he feared for his temper if he was forced to endure much more.

He was just about the start examining the various knick-knacks that adorned Ron's desk when the door at the back of the room opened and his friend appeared. It had been a while since he'd last seen Ron and he was struck, as he always was after these long periods of absence, at just how grown up Ron looked, especially in his smart, well-tailored Healer robes.

"Harry," said Ron, approaching him with a smile and an open hand, "it's good to see you."

Harry stood and took the hand that was offered, giving it a firm shake and returning Ron's smile as he said, "And you mate. How are you?"

Ron settled himself behind his desk and indicated for Harry to resume his seat. "Not bad, can't complain," he said with a smile. "Work's as busy as ever but I'm planning on halving my practice work so I can focus more on my research."

"Research?" Harry echoed, unable to suppress a grin. "The 15-year-old you has just felt someone walk over his grave."

Ron snorted and said, "I know, I never would have imagined I'd turn into such a geek. Hermione's intensely proud of me."

Harry's smile faded slightly at the mention of their shared friend. "How is she?" he asked quietly.

"You'd know if you visited her," came the level reply.

"I – "

"Anyway, what can I do for you? I take it this isn't a social call, as we don't get too many of those these days."

And there it was, the reproach he'd been expecting and couldn't honestly say he didn't deserve. His constant absence in his friends' lives, indeed his absence in the very country they lived in, was a sore point that showed no signs of remedying itself.

Harry cleared his throat and reluctantly met Ron's eyes. "I was hit by a curse a couple of months ago. At first I thought it was just a straight-forward disabling hex; I was immobile for a couple of days and a little weak and wobbly but it seemed to wear off."

"And now?" Ron asked regarding Harry with professional interest as he summoned a piece of parchment and a dicta-quill.

"Now I feel like I'm losing my mind," Harry said tiredly. "I'm in pain all the time and I've tried every possible way of relieving it that I can think of and nothing works."

Ron nodded slowly and said, "Can you describe the pain?"

Harry sighed and said, "It's constant. Sometimes it's my joints that ache, other times it's muscle cramps and then sometimes it feels as though my nerves are on fire and I can hardly bear for anything to touch my skin it's that painful."

Ron scratched thoughtfully at the end of his nose then stood up, saying, "I'll need to examine you."

Harry nodded and Ron moved around the desk to him, saying with clinical efficiency, "Strip down to your underwear and stand still for me."

Harry did as he was told and stood in just his pants, which were a thankfully respectable pair, as Ron circled him several times. He took each of Harry's hands and examined them, then held each arm out, his face a picture of concentration. He tilted Harry's head from side to side then moved his hands over Harry's shoulders and back before he knelt down and examined Harry's feet and legs.

Harry was a little embarrassed, he couldn't deny it. Ron had seen him in such a state many a time; they had shared a dorm for seven years and none of the boys had been shy in stripping off, but this was different, and Harry couldn't help but feel exposed as Ron looked at him as though he were a specimen.

"Your range of motion is very limited," said Ron as bent Harry's arm at the elbow and watched as Harry winced slightly.

"It's getting worse. Sometimes my knees and my hips are so stiff that I can barely walk. The ache is unbearable."

"Any other symptoms? Nausea, headaches, insomnia?"

"I get headaches, but I think that's just from the stress of it all, the same with my sleeping. The pain keeps me awake sometimes."

Ron reached for his wand and pointed it at Harry's head, moving it down his body all the way to his feet, a spectrum of colour appearing as he did so. Ron looked at each one thoughtfully and Harry was reminded of the many times he had played chess with the younger version of the man before him and how carefully Ron would scrutinise each chess piece. Harry felt a sudden surge of sympathy for the little buggers.

"Medicating with alcohol won't do you any good," Ron said with a raised eyebrow.

"Did the scan tell you that?" Harry said, his voice taking on a petulant edge.

"That, coupled with the fact that I can smell it on you."

"It just takes the edge off sometimes," Harry replied, averting his eyes from Ron's disapproving gaze.

Ron waved his wand and the colours disappeared. "Not a good strategy for the long run though," he said, and Harry was eerily reminded of the look Hermione would get before she was about to launch into a lecture. "The scans were unclear," Ron continued, "there's certainly evidence of dark magic but at this stage I wouldn't like to hazard a guess. Pop your clothes back on."

Ron looked thoughtfully at Harry as he yanked his jeans back on. "I'd like to discuss your case with a colleague, with your permission," he said eventually.

"A colleague?" Harry said, his eyes narrowing, sure that he could guess exactly who the colleague would be.

Ron nodded, and Harry knew that his friend was well aware that he knew whom they were speaking of.

"I suppose I don't have much choice," he said with a resigned shrug.

Ron rolled his eyes slightly and moved over the fire place, kneeling down beside it and sticking his head in slightly and chucking a small pinch of Floo powder in. "Severus!" he called loudly. "I need to speak with you, are you there? Severus? Sev!"

"Bloody hell Ron, you sound just like your mother," came the dry and slightly amused voice. Harry's stomach unwittingly turned a somersault.

"My mum's never called you 'Sev'," Ron replied with a grin.

"That," said Severus, "is because she has a greater sense of self-preservation than you do. Now why are you interrupting my afternoon?"

"Why do you always sound so put out when you say that?" Ron replied, and Harry found himself feeling highly uncomfortable with the familiar, teasing tone that Ron had adopted. He shifted back a little further in his chair, just to make sure that Severus couldn't see him sitting there. "I could do with your help on a patient's case," Ron said, and Harry heard an amused snort in response.

"How they gave you a medical license I will never know."

Once upon a time, thought Harry, that sentence would have been dripping with malice and would have been intended to hurt and offend. Now, it was warm and said with a dramatic eye-roll that made Ron break into another grin.

"I'm only shuffling along until I get found out," the red-head replied. "Will you come over to mine this evening and we can talk about it? 7 o'clock alright for you?"

"I'll be there, as the whisky had better be."

"Have I ever let you down yet?"

"Fool," said Severus, and Harry's insides twisted at just how fond the former Potions Professor sounded of the man smiling at him through the fire. The flames dimmed and Severus disappeared, Ron getting back to his feet and moving back to sit behind his desk.

"What?" he asked Harry as he noticed the man looking at him.

"You two…you're still friendly then?" he asked, knowing it was a stupid question after what he had just witnessed.

"We see each other twice a week and very often end up consulting each other in a professional capacity," Ron replied, but Harry could see that something in his friend was guarded.

"Why didn't…why didn't you tell him that I was the patient?" Harry asked quietly.

Ron paused for a moment and fiddled unnecessarily with the quill on his desk. "I thought it best to tell him face to face. I'm assuming he doesn't know you're back in the country?"

"I…I haven't had the chance to tell him yet."

"And does he know you've been cursed?"

Harry chewed his lip. "No, no I didn't really see the point. The last letter I wrote him was just…you know…the usual."

Ron shook his head and Harry thought he saw a trace of disappointment in his friend's face. "The same sort of letters we all get from you Harry?" he asked with a raised eyebrow and Harry suddenly felt very much as though he would like to be anywhere else rather than in front of his oldest and supposedly dearest friend.

He opened his mouth to respond but shut it again when he could think of no proper response. Ron, it seemed decided to spare him, and he made a couple of notes on the parchment in front of him, before saying, "I'll need to have a few samples from you before you go. I'll take them all, apart from one," he said, pointedly looking up at Harry. "For that you're on your own in a consultation room with a cup for company."

"You have a wonderful bedside manner, has anyone ever told you?"

"Several people over the years actually," said Ron with a horribly sardonic look that was too familiar to Severus' to be comfortable.

Harry let the silence hang in the air for a moment or two while Ron moved over to a cupboard to fish out several pieces of equipment he would need to collect blood, saliva and skin samples. "Will he help…when he knows it's me?" he asked eventually, and Ron turned around to look at him incredulously.

"You really are a stupid git sometimes Harry," Ron said, a flash of anger appearing in his pale eyes. Something hardened in his face and he brought the medical instruments over. "I'm going to take these samples," he said stiffly, and Harry regretted opening his mouth, "then I'll be in touch after I've spoken to Sev."

* * *

Harry arrived back in Grimmauld Place later that day feeling a good deal worse than he had done when he had left. Not only had the usual pain returned with vicious vigour, but he was well and truly ruffled after his encounter with Ron.

He was expecting it; it was always the same when he came back home after months away, but it didn't make it any easier. His job as an international Auror took him all over the world, and as he had specialised in eradicating archaic dark artefacts, his assignments were often lengthy ones. He knew his friends didn't begrudge him his career; they were proud of him and his achievements, but his lack of communication in between and his dwindling return visits were points of contention.

He knew also that his friends were perfectly aware that his job wasn't the only reason he wasn't around much. Almost immediately after the Final Battle and the fall of Voldemort, he had taken off without a word to anyone, just a couple of scribbled notes to let Ron and Hermione know that he was ok but that he didn't know when, or indeed if, he would be back. He still felt guilty about the way he had left, and he knew that the people around him had struggled immensely with his absence at the time, but it had been the only thing he could have done.

He shrugged off his outer robe and hung it on the peg, kicking his boots off and placing them to the side of the front door. The house was in a far better state than it had been several years ago and despite the fact that he stayed in it for no more than a few weeks at a time, Harry had been determined to make his base in England a suitable and comfortable one. He had worked hard to renovate the place, using both magic and sheer, determined elbow grease, and now, although it would never be a place of beauty, it was somewhere he was proud of.

He moved through to the kitchen and pointed his wand at the kettle and a mug, and within a couple of minutes he had a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. He resisted the urge to sneak a nip of whisky in it, lest he receive another telling off from Ron. He glanced up at the clock on the wall opposite and noted that it was 6.30; in half an hour's time, Ron would be meeting with Severus.

He sighed and stared into his coffee, wondering if he was waiting for the black liquid to provide him with a helpful piece of advice. Of all the things to come out of the war, Ron and Severus' friendship was one of the oddest. It had happened gradually and most found it a little unusual, but then, a lot of unusual things were happening at the time.

 _~*~ 7 years ago ~*~_

There was a crash from the corridor and Harry and Ron looked at each other as a string of expletives rang out before a dull thud was heard, the sound, they both guessed, of someone collapsing in the hallway.

Ron stuck his head out of the kitchen of Grimmauld Place and looked down the corridor, letting out a few choice words of his own when he saw Severus slumped on the floor, clutching on to his side. "Help me!" he flung over his shoulder to Harry and the two boys hauled Severus up and into the sitting room, where they lowered him as gently as they could onto the sofa.

Harry was horrified. Severus was frighteningly pale and his breathing was quick and shallow. All the feelings that he'd been trying to push down over the last few months came crashing to the surface and he was rooted to the spot as fear washed over him.

"Professor," came Ron's voice, amazingly steady given the circumstance. "Professor I need you to tell me what's happened to you," he said as he knelt in front of the man.

"Bugger off," Severus said acidly, and Harry could hardly believe he could be like that in his condition.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that Severus," said Ron, and Harry was surprised not only by Ron's use of the man's first name, but by the firm, commanding tone he used as he did so. "You'll tell me what's happened to you so I can help you. Do you think I'm going to let you sit here and bleed to death?"

"You'd make a wonderful Healer," Severus sneered then winced sharply, clutching his side again as a wave of pain seemed to roll over him.

"Stop being a dick," Ron ground out, standing to move over and rummage in a nearby cabinet, one that Harry knew contained a ton of medical supplies, courtesy of Molly Weasley. With Grimmauld Place continuing to be used as the unofficial Order headquarters, she had insisted that, as well as a thorough clean, the place should be properly stocked with enough supplies to keep a small hospital going.

Ron moved back to kneel in front of Severus and took his wand out, waving it over the man from head to toe. "Two broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, torn ligaments and – fuck! Severus you've been stabbed you fucking arsehole. Why didn't you tell us?"

"Couldn't get a word in edgeways," Severus rasped, and again Harry was struck at the way in which Ron was speaking to the man. It was true that they hadn't been students for a little over a year, but still, most people had continued to treat the former Potions Master in much the same way as they had done before.

It wasn't the first time Harry had witnessed Ron's changed attitude, but it was the first time he had witnessed it so obviously.

"You're such a shit sometimes," Ron said through gritted teeth. "You could bleed to death! You're just lucky it missed your vital organs."

"Born lucky, that's me," Severus replied, and Harry felt himself starting to share some of Ron's anger, now that his abject terror that Severus was about to keel over and die was beginning to fade somewhat. "It wasn't deep," he added, seeing Ron's hard, reproachful look.

"Deep enough for you to lose a couple of pints of blood by the looks of things."

Ron waved his wand and muttered a couple of spells that Harry was unfamiliar with and Severus' breathing began to even out and the look of pain started to ease a little from his face. He hadn't realised Ron had become so adept at healing spells, but he couldn't exactly say he was surprised; for the past year Ron had, for some reason, taken it upon himself to be the Order's resident medic. Harry couldn't pinpoint how it had begun, but Ron was extremely competent and displayed a confidence when dealing with the injured that he didn't always show in other facets of daily life.

"That's just a couple of preliminary spells," said Ron, getting to his feet. "I'll need to do a few more in an hour or so, and there are several potions you need to take."

"I'll need – " Severus began, but was cut off somewhat harshly by Ron saying,

"I know full well what you need Severus, unlike you, I am not an idiot."

Harry bit the inside of cheek to keep from grinning; he couldn't believe how Ron was speaking to Severus, and neither, by the look on his face, could Severus.

"Keep an eye on him for a minute, get him to clean himself up with the witch hazel and ethanol. I'll be back in a bit," said Ron, throwing one last glare at Severus before he left.

Harry cleared his throat and moved closer to the sofa, stopping when Severus said,

"I don't need a babysitter."

Harry rolled his eyes and knelt down, meeting Severus' eyes as he said, "You go and argue with Ron then."

He set about soaking a clean cloth with the witch hazel and ethanol concoction that was one of Mrs Weasley's own creations and, deciding to adopt the same firm tone as his friend, moved a little closer and said, "Let me clean the wound."

"No," Severus said through gritted teeth.

"I'm not asking you," Harry said, feeling his confidence slip slightly, but damn it, if Ron could do it, so could he. "Ron's healed the worst of it but there's still a chance infection could set in, and we wouldn't want to lose you to a nasty bout of sepsis, now would we?" Harry asked, plastering a sickly-sweet smile on his face.

Severus glared at him, but Harry was determined not to be deterred. "Open your shirt," he said, gently but firmly.

"I can't," Severus said, a distinct note of reluctance in his voice. Harry frowned at him and with a sigh he elaborated, "Weasley didn't fix my dislocated shoulder, I can't move it."

"Oh," Harry said quietly. "Well, perhaps I can help."

"You?" said Severus, looking highly sceptical, and Harry was annoyed that he had seemingly been so fine with Ron attending to him and yet didn't trust Harry to do the same.

"I've seen my fair share of dislocated shoulders on the quidditch pitch," he said indignantly. "I know perfectly well how to sort them."

He moved a little closer to the sofa and propped himself up firmly on his knees then moved in towards Severus. "Place your left hand on my shoulder," he instructed, gratified when Severus did so without complaint. "Keep tight hold and don't move," he said, feeling the long, elegant fingers dig into the skin of his shoulder.

He gently took hold of Severus' right wright wrist and moved it so the man's arm was held across his body. Severus winced slightly but said nothing and Harry then moved the arm slowly back so it was held horizontally out to the side, then without warning he pushed it sharply back and upwards and held the satisfying pop as it the shoulder found its rightful place in its socket.

"Fuck," Severus bit out in a shaky breath and Harry stifled his laughter at the unusual lack of control from the older man. He collapsed back against the sofa and gave his shoulder a few tentative rotations then eyed Harry with a strange sort of reluctant curiosity. "Thank you," he said, and Harry blinked a couple of times in surprise. It was more than Ron had received.

"Take your shirt off," Harry said in response. He wasn't going to give in to the sudden civility, no matter what Severus might have expected.

The man again looked reluctant but nevertheless complied and slowly began unbuttoning the usual black shirt that he seemed to be permanently glued into. He slid it off his shoulders and Harry's eyes came to rest on the angry, deep wound on the man's side, just below his ribs. Ron's magic had done a fair bit of repair work and had made sure that there was no immediate danger, but he was right to want the wound cleaned, as it would need to be properly patched up and allowed to heal naturally.

Harry picked up the cloth he had soaked previously and moved back over to Severus. He lifted it to the wound and Severus went to bat him away, but Harry was quicker, taking hold of one of his wrists, glaring up at the man and saying, "Stop being difficult."

Severus returned his glare, but nevertheless leant back slightly and allowed Harry to dab away at the horrible mar on his flesh, sucking a sharp breath in through his teeth as the alcohol stung him. Harry concentrated on his task, trying very hard not to focus on his close proximity to the man who, more often than not these days, was always in his thoughts.

He couldn't say when it had begun, truth be told he tried not to dwell on that too much, but begun it had. His thoughts, both waking and dreaming, seemed to always contain the former Potions Master, and working with him so closely in the last year since Hogwarts had been disbanded had done nothing to quell his treacherous mind. If only his mind was the problem though, he thought as he gritted his teeth together.

If anything, his mind was allowing itself to be dragged along somewhat unwillingly. It was his body that was doing all the leading. His body that seemed to react to Severus whenever he was near, and very often, when he was miles away too. His body was the thing that offered up helpful dreams and, dare he say, fantasies, with which to use when he had a moment of personal alone time, and it was his body that broke out in shivers and goose bumps whenever he stood too close to the man or allowed himself an indulgent moment to sneak a look across the room or the table, or wherever it was they ended up.

He cleared his throat and internally screamed at himself to stop bloody blushing. The last thing he wanted was for Severus to know what was running through his mind as he sat so close to the man's naked torso; he couldn't bear the humiliation of seeing the sneer that would undoubtedly settle on Severus' face at such a revelation.

Thankfully his blushes were spared when Ron re-entered the room and said in that strangely authoritative tone, "Good, glad to see you managed to beat him into submission."

" _Oh very fucking funny,"_ thought Harry, reminding himself to thump his best friend very hard the next time the opportunity presented itself.

Ron gave Harry a gentle nudge with his foot and Harry took the hint to move, allowing Ron to take his place in front of Severus. Ron held up three vials and passed them to Severus, saying, in a tone that brooked no refusal, "Take them all – the blue, then the red, then the clear."

"Yes, thank you," Severus bit out, "I think I know which order they need to be ingested in."

"Take them and just hope to Merlin that I haven't poisoned one of them."

"You couldn't make an adequate poison if your life depended on it."

"Oh I don't know," said Ron, fishing the sewing kit and a curved needle out of the medicine supplies, "I had a pretty good Potions teacher. He was an immense bastard of course, but he knew his stuff. I could whip up something to put you in a coma for a month, give us all some peace."

Harry watched in horrified fascination as Severus tried very hard not to smile at Ron, and Ron, in return, smirked up at Severus. No one spoke to Severus in the way Ron had just done, not even the 'proper adults', who seemed content to keep the man at arm's distance as much as the younger ones. Yet here was the youngest Weasley boy, not only giving as good as Severus could, but doing so in such a way that he actually seemed to amuse the man. The mind boggled.

"I'm going to patch you up," said Ron, threading the needle with the medical thread, "and then, you're going to tell me exactly what happened so I can report back to Remus. And," he added threateningly, noticing that Severus had opened his mouth, "if you protest, I'll make sure I sew you up so badly that I leave a really wonky scar, which will annoy the hell out of you for the rest of your life."

"You're a git," Severus said, but there was no malice behind the words and Ron gave a soft snort of laughter as he leant forward and began his work.

Harry couldn't help but feel a spark of jealousy as Ron's large, pale hand splayed out on Severus' skin, touching him in a way that Harry wished he could. He wanted to know what Severus would feel like underneath his palm, but unless he was willing to take over from Ron's meticulous stitching, he couldn't see that being a possibility.

Severus didn't seem to be in any pain as Ron carried out his ministrations, and Harry couldn't help but think that although he had said it mockingly, Severus had been right when he had said Ron would make a good Healer. At one point, Ron glanced up at Severus, and neither man bothered to hide their smiles as they looked at one another. Harry's insides twisted, and he wondered, not for the first time, exactly what was going on between the two of them.

Ron had spent more time with the dour man than most people had. It hadn't been planned that way, but it seemed that more often than not, the two were often paired together for Order assignments. Ron had hated it at first, and Harry and Hermione had heard nothing but complaints from him in the first few weeks, but as time went on, the complaints began to lessen and were instead replaced with observations about the man's behaviour or accounts of things he had said when they had had time to merely sit and converse.

Harry supposed he noticed more than others; after all, he watched Severus more than anyone else on the face of the earth, and he was closer to Ron than anyone. He shouldn't have been surprised that he was the one to notice the subtle shifts between the two men that went beyond the jibes and arguments and apparently easy use of each other's first names. The thought knotted in his stomach and made him feel a deeply unpleasant sense of hostility to both of them, something that he knew was unfair, but uncontrollable nevertheless.

Ron snipped the end of the thread and placed the needle aside to be sterilised later, then placed a self-adhesive padding over the wound, pressing it gently in place. "I'll change it tomorrow and make sure the wound's showing no signs of putrefaction."

Severus nodded, slipping back into his shirt and disappointing Harry greatly as he covered himself back up. "Thank you," the man said, and both Harry and Ron could hear the sincerity with which those two little words were said.

Ron's face split into its customary grin and he extended his hand to Severus, who took it with more good grace than Harry had ever seen the man show before. "I'll swing for you one of these days Severus, I swear I will," said Ron, the grin still in place. "Now, tell me what happened."

 _~*~ Present Day ~*~_

Harry was pulled from his reverie by the clock striking 7pm. Had he really been sitting reminiscing for half an hour? He placed his now cold cup of coffee on the table with a sigh, remembering what had happened after Ron had asked for Severus' account. The man had finally been unmasked as a spy amongst the Death Eater ranks, and had taken a very serious beating before he had managed to apparate back to Grimmauld Place.

It was a blow to the Order; the information that Severus had been able to provide had been invaluable, but at the time Harry had felt nothing but relief. He had hated having to stand by and watch every time Severus had been summoned, every time he left to go and pay homage to that damned psychopath and Harry would never know what state he would return in, if he returned at all.

It was a sentiment that Ron vocalised, standing in the grimy sitting room with his arms crossed as he listened to Severus' narrative. _"I know this is supposed to bad news for us Severus," he had said levelly, "but Merlin's beard I can help but be glad."_

Severus had frowned up at him, those dark, black eyes searching out exactly what Ron had meant. He didn't have to search for long though, as Ron elaborated, _"You risk your life every time by going back as one of them and having to lead this double life is killing you. I know it's what you've done for the last 20 years, but damn it Severus there's only so much a man can take. You're still just as valuable to the Order whether you're a spy or not, and at least now I can sleep easy knowing you haven't been called to the feet of that wanker."_

Severus had blinked at Ron for a moment or two before letting his head fall back on the sofa and laughing. Harry had never seen the man laugh before and he had revelled in the deep, rich sound, although he couldn't understand the reason for it.

" _I'll never get used to Weasleys,"_ the man had said eventually, when his mirth subsided, and Ron had grinned at him again before leaving the room, stopping slightly to say over his shoulder,

" _You know I'm your favourite."_

Harry had seen Severus shake his head in amusement, though he had noted that the man hadn't corrected Ron at all, and Harry could still remember that surge of jealousy all over again.

And now, seven years later, Ron and Severus were cosily holed up in Ron's apartment, having a discussion about him, or at least that's what they were meant to be doing. Harry knew he was being childish and that really he had no right to feel the way he did; he was the one who had left after all, but still, he couldn't help his feelings.

He wondered what Severus' response would be when Ron told him that he himself was the patient whose case they would be discussing, and a flutter of nerves assaulted him as he thought about seeing the man again. It had been a few months since they had last seen each other, and that had only been the briefest of hellos as they had passed each other in the Ministry.

There had been letters in between, but they were almost painfully polite and sometimes Harry wondered if they would ever be able to speak to each other the way they had done before he had left.

Knowing that he would do nothing all night but ponder over what Ron and Severus would be talking about, or worse, speculating about what they might be _doing_ , he reached for the bottle of scotch on the side cabinet, Ron's warning be damned. He was starting to feel the familiar spread of pain through his hips and his lower back and he was in no mood to deal with physical and mental torments that evening. He would simply drink himself into oblivion and suffer the consequences in the morning.

* * *

Harry paused on the threshold of the cottage, stopping a moment to take in the painfully familiar surroundings. He was in Scotland, the north-east coast to be precise, and standing outside a cottage that had once belonged to McGonagall. She had left it to Severus in her will, and he had moved into it a couple of years ago, once he was finally able to accept that one of his oldest and dearest friends was indeed gone.

Harry held up his hand to knock on the door, stopping when he heard voices coming through the slightly open window to the left of the door.

"I hate that bloody tea, Sev," came Ron's unmistakable voice.

"Don't drink it then," came the amused-sounding response.

"You never offer me anything else!"

"Ron, you know perfectly well where everything is in this place, help your bloody self."

Ron chuckled and replied, "You're such a charming host Sev, that's what I love about you."

"One is only a host to guests, you Ronald Weasley, have never been a guest here, you're a permanent annoyance."

"But you love me."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do."

"No I sodding well don't."

"Yes you do! Say you love me, say it or I'm going to do unspeakable things to you."

"I won't be threatened by you, you great over-sized oaf."

"You call me the sweetest things," Ron laughed, and Harry couldn't bear the easy familiarity that he heard in their interactions, not to mention the almost over-flowing affection and undercurrents of things that made Harry want to put his fist through the door.

He settled instead for knocking loudly and bounced slightly on the balls of his feet until Ron appeared.

"Right on time," said the red-head, stepping aside to let Harry in.

Harry allowed himself a moment to look around as he stood in the little entrance porch while Ron closed the door behind him. Upon first inspection it seemed as though nothing much had changed, and the realisation gave Harry a delightfully warm feeling somewhere around his mid-section. He moved a little further into the cottage and turned, almost instinctively, immediately to his left, into the little sitting room that he could picture so well to find Severus standing there, waiting for him.

His breath caught in his throat and his stomach lurched unpleasantly. They stood, simply looking at one another for a moment, Harry allowing himself the indulgence of drinking in the man before him. He looked well; his hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, clean and shiny, and he was nowhere as skinny as he had once been. He still looked strong and imposing but the guarded hostility that had once been a permanent fixture on his features was no longer there and it made him look softer, younger in a contrary sort of way.

"Hello Harry," he said softly, with just the faintest of smiles, and Harry had to stop himself from running and flinging himself into the man's arms.

"Hello Severus. You're looking well," he said, hoping his voice wasn't betraying him.

"Thank you, as are you."

"Harry," said Ron, entering the room, "have you got your luggage with you?"

"It's shrunken in my pocket," replied Harry.

"Fine, you're in your old room. Why don't you go ahead and get settled in and we can talk things through over lunch?"

Harry nodded, knowing an instruction when he heard one. He glanced back at Severus then headed for the stairs, hearing Ron say softly to Severus,

"Are you ok?"

"Of course," came the clipped response.

Harry padded softly up the stairs, running his hand over the twisted old bannister as he went. The place still smelt the same and it re-ignited memories that were so wonderfully bittersweet he thought he finally understood the kind of pleasure masochists derived. The bedroom was the one he had stayed in all those years ago and he wasn't ashamed when tears pricked his eyes at the sight of it.

Everything was the same; the deep, red curtains, the squishy green armchair by the small fireplace, the incongruously big wardrobe that Harry had once jokingly suggested could be the gateway to Narnia and the beautiful brass bed that he had passed so many nights in. He moved slowly over to it and ran his hands over the bedding almost reverently. He sat down on it, hearing the familiar creak of the frame under his weight, remembering how it had annoyed him the first few nights he had slept in it.

It was horribly painful being back there and he wondered how Severus could live in the place day after day and what precisely it was that had prompted him to do so. He was tempted to tiptoe down the hallway and see if Severus' bedroom was the same as it had been when the man had slept there last, but he couldn't bring himself to do so.

He fished his trunk out of his pocket and re-sized it, then set about unpacking his things and placing them about the room, finishing last with his trusted journal that he placed on the little bedside table next to the bed. He wondered just how much he would write while he stayed at the cottage and if he did write in it, whether he would ever be brave enough to go back and read what he had written.

When he had received Ron's letter telling him that Severus was inviting him to stay at the cottage while both he and Ron worked on a diagnosis and solution, his first reaction had been to tell them both to go to hell. He could think of nothing worse than going back to the cottage that featured in his dreams most nights and spending time with the man who had a starring role in those dreams, but then his rational, grown up self had taken control of the thinking process and reasoned that really, he didn't have a choice if he wanted to find a solution.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, telling himself that he couldn't put it off any longer. He slipped out of his room and back down the stairs, walking quietly towards the kitchen. He stopped just outside the doorway, peering in slightly to see Ron and Severus working side by side at the kitchen counter, preparing things for lunch and speaking quietly to one another.

"Just take it one day at a time," Ron said as he sliced a thick, brown loaf of bread.

"There's not much else I can do," Severus replied, and Harry could hear the smirk in his voice.

"At least you have something to focus on Sev, just see it as another of our cases."

"Yes, yes that's the best way to go about it."

Harry bristled slightly. So he was just another case was he? Charming. An owl flittered past the window and Severus glanced up at it expectantly, frowning when it passed by without stopping.

"Damn, I was hoping that was Elodie's birthday present," said Severus.

"You big softie," Ron said with a laugh. "You spoil that child."

"She's my god-daughter!" Severus protested.

"She's my bloody niece and I don't shower her with gifts the way you do. Honestly, George will have your hide if you carry on like this."

"It's her birthday!"

"Oh don't give me that, you buy her presents every opportunity you get. Hermione still hasn't forgiven you for that children's potions set that ended up setting fire to their prized Persian rug. She thinks you're trying to fashion yourself a mini Potions Master in the making."

"Elodie has Hermione's intelligence and George's ingenuity, she'll be a force to be reckoned with, you mark my words."

"And you can tell all this about a 4-year-old can you?" asked Ron in amusement.

"She's my god-daughter, there's no two ways that she'll be brilliant."

Harry cleared his throat and moved into the kitchen, forcing a smile when the two men turned around to take notice of him.

"Just in time," said Ron, placing the bread on the kitchen table, then gathering up the plate of cheese while Severus dished up the platter of cold meats.

Harry took a seat and watched Severus as he went over to take the whistling kettle off the stove, pouring the water into a waiting teapot. Ron pulled a face, no doubt thinking disparaging thoughts about Severus' tea, but Harry remembered the taste of it with nothing but fondness, and found himself suddenly desperate to taste it again.

Severus brought the teapot and mugs over to the table and sat down opposite Harry, while Ron fished around the in the cupboards for a cannister containing other teabags, popping one in a mug and filling it with water from the kettle on the stove. He then brought out the plates and cutlery and set them on the table, and Harry realised just how familiar Ron was with the place. He knew where everything was kept and moved around the kitchen with the comfortable ease of someone who felt at home. Harry found himself wondering just how much time Ron spent in Severus' home.

"Thanks," he said, as Severus handed him a full mug of tea and he closed his eyes as he breathed in the familiar smell. It wasn't to everyone's taste, but he loved it and although it hurt slightly, he loved all the things it made him remember.

"How's the pain today?" Ron asked him as he settle himself down and began loading his plate up with food.

"Bearable," Harry said after taking a sip of his tea. "It's mostly a dull ache in my back and hips but nothing that's affecting my mobility too much."

Ron nodded and held out his hand, wordlessly summoning his satchel from the kitchen counter. Ron had always been powerful, Harry could never understand why people could never see that when they were younger, but after spending time with Severus he became more so.

Ron produced Harry's medical file and set it down in front of him, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a muggle pen. Harry suppressed a smile, thinking how proud Arthur would be of his son. Ron made a couple of notes as he continued to eat, then looked up again at Harry and said,

"At the moment we still don't know what curse you've been hit with, but while we figure it out we're going to try and give you a better quality of life."

Harry looked between Ron and Severus questioningly and Severus placed his mug of tea down, saying, "I'll be trialling a selection of pain-relief potions for you. They'll need to be custom made, hence why you're here. Once we have a better idea of exactly which curse you were it with, we can start to formulate an antidote or counter-spell."

Harry nodded and Ron picked up where Severus left of, saying around a mouthful of bread and cheese, "I'll be here every few days to conduct your physical rehabilitation."

"You're not staying?" Harry asked. That was news to him.

Ron shook his head and said with a smile, "I'm not leaving Drake alone for anyone."

Harry paused for a moment, his brain trying to process the information he had just heard. "You and Draco…you're living together?"

"Yeah, nearly a year now. I did tell you, I sent you a letter when we got the place," Ron said, and Harry tried to remember whether or not he could remember reading that letter. In all probability, he hadn't.

"I um…congratulations mate, I didn't realise you were so serious," he said, aware that Severus was frowning at him across the table.

"No, well I suppose you wouldn't," Ron replied, that horrible admonishing look back on his face, and Harry busied himself by spreading a healthy dollop of butter on his bread so he wouldn't have to see it.

Ron continued to make his notes then, without looking up, said, "We have a few ideas as to the curse you might have been hit with but we'll need continuous samples from you to see how or if it's affecting you at a cellular level, and we need a little more time to do some proper research."

Harry couldn't help but think that the word 'we' tripped out of Ron's mouth a little too easily and he couldn't help but feel a little petulant indignation that there was even a 'we' to begin with.

"I'm afraid you're going to have to be monitored rather carefully," Severus said, regarding him over the rim of his mug.

"Hey, as long as no one's watching me while I'm in the bathroom, I'll be just fine," Harry replied, trying to inject a little levity into the situation.

Ron snorted and said, "No one has any intention of doing that."

He made a few further notes, chewing his bottom lip while he scribbled away. Severus leant a little over his shoulder, placing an arm over the back of Ron's seat as he did so, and started to read what Ron was writing.

"Sev you know I hate it when you do that," said Ron, not stopping to look over at the man who was invading his personal space.

"I know," Severus replied cheerfully, emphasising the point by leaning in closer. Harry didn't think the man would ever be that comfortable letting his physical barriers down but it was obvious that a lot had changed since he had left England.

He had seen more of Ron in that time than he had of Severus, and he knew from the way Ron spoke about their former Potions Master that there was a deep connection between the two, but to see it so plainly and to see how utterly at ease Severus was around Ron was somewhat jarring.

"Your handwriting is appalling," Severus told the red-head.

Ron gave a dramatic sigh and glared across the older man. "So you tell me at least once a week. I suppose we should all write in over-flourished, fancy-pants calligraphy like you should we?"

"It would be an improvement on that chicken scratch," Severus said with a quirk of his eyebrow. "You should pity me for having to read it for seven years."

"Six," Ron corrected. "If you remember, I didn't complete my 7th year."

"And doesn't it just show?" Severus teased.

"You're such a git. It's a good job I love you isn't it?"

"Of course you love me, I credit you with _some_ good sense."

Harry couldn't believe the easy interplay between the two men in front of him. Not only had Ron openly said that he loved Severus, but Severus had acknowledged it as if it wasn't the first time he had heard it. The ugly ball of jealousy settled in the pit of Harry's stomach again and he knew that somewhere, a little part of his brain was whispering, " _It's your own fault you cretin, you were the one who left_ ".

Ron stopped scribbling and flipped the file shut so that Severus couldn't read any more of it, then looked up at Harry, saying, "I'll need you to keep your own records Harry. I need a detailed account of each day in terms of your level of pain, discomfort, fatigue, appetite, headaches and so on. It has to be as in depth as you can make it. Start from today please."

Harry nodded his compliance, wondering what had happened to the awkward, bumbling teenager he had once known and how he had come to be replaced by this efficient, self-assured man who seemed to be in control of every situation.

"Right, well I'd best be on my way, I have afternoon surgery to attend to," Ron said, packing his things back into his satchel. "I'll be back the day after tomorrow and we'll start your rehab process."

"Sounds good," said Harry, getting to his feet as Ron did the same. "I really appreciated this mate, I can't tell you."

A strange look crossed Ron's face, replaced quickly with a small smile. "Don't mention it," he said softly.

"I'll see you out," said Severus, and the two men moved out of the kitchen.

Harry couldn't help himself; under the pretence of placing the lunch dishes in the sink, he moved over to the window and carefully glanced out to see Ron leaving the cottage, Severus behind him. They stopped and spoke for a moment then Ron reached up and placed a hand on Severus' shoulder, a touch that the man leant into with a smile. Something was said and they both laughed, then after a brief hug Ron disappeared with a soft pop and Severus was left standing alone.

Harry let out a shaky breath and gripped the side of the sink as stood there. It was stupid, Ron was with Draco and Severus…well who knew about Severus? He certainly didn't, that was for sure. What he did know was that no one touched Severus the way Ron did, and Severus didn't laugh or smile like that with anyone else. It was true that he was a different man since the end of the war, hell everyone was different, but he wondered, not for the first time, if he'd made the biggest mistake of his life leaving the way he had done when it had all ended.

He turned away from the window and looked around the beautiful kitchen. It was so good to be back in the cottage and he intended to fully re-acquaint himself with the place. He could still remember, all those years ago, the circumstances that had first brought it to the quirky, cosy cottage.

 _~*~*~ 7 Years Ago ~*~*~_

They all sat around the long, slightly splintered, table in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place, suffering through the weekly de-briefing. Harry and Hermione were wedged next to the twins, while McGonagall, Remus, Tonks and Bill sat opposite, all nursing lukewarm cups of tea that no one seemed to want as it was particularly warm outside. Ron and Severus were standing leaning against the cabinets, both with their arms crossed and faces guarded as they all listened to Dumbledore's unusually sharp tones.

"And so, as you can surmise, things have somewhat descended into chaos since Severus was unmasked as a traitor," said the Headmaster, standing at the head of the table, his long, bony hands braced on the chair in front of him.

In the last few months Harry rather thought that the man had dropped his kindly old elf routine and instead had taken to behaving much like an efficient war general. It was refreshing, Harry had decided, and he preferred the direct, competent approach the man seemed to be taking rather than the elusive, twinkling, scheming persona that had so often frustrated the hell out of him.

"Ever since Draco Malfoy took the Mark as well – "

"Malfoy's taken the Mark?" Harry interrupted.

"Yes I'm afraid so, we were alerted to it last night. Kingsley's team were staking out Malfoy Manor and reported the initiation back to us."

No one else seemed to notice the look that passed between Ron and Severus, but Harry did, and he also noticed the unusually pale shade his friend had gone. Severus quirked one black eyebrow and Ron gave a surreptitious nod, drawing his arms closer around himself. Harry frowned but turned his attention back to Dumbledore.

"They also reported something that, while expected, is perturbing nevertheless." Dumbledore paused to re-arrange his small glasses on the bridge of his nose. "The Death Eaters are seeking retribution, vengeance for Severus' betrayal. You're not safe my boy," he said, and Harry's stomach lurched.

Severus snorted and said, "When have I ever been? This, as you say, isn't unexpected."

"No," Dumbledore agreed, "but it is avoidable."

"Headmaster?" Severus asked, his expression immediately suspicious.

"I believe it would be best if you were to…go to ground for a while. You're too vulnerable at the moment and too valuable to us to lose you. A couple of months until their bloodlust blows over should do it."

Harry had expected Severus to refuse point black, to stand there with his arms folded, his black eyes unyielding as he told the Headmaster in no uncertain terms that he would rather eat a Hippogriff than acquiesce to the suggestion. It was something of a surprise then when the man simply inclined his head slightly and said softly, "Very well Headmaster, if you think it best."

Everyone seemed to have been thinking the same as Harry, for they all looked askance at Severus' mild acceptance of the situation, all apart from Ron who simply stood where he was, smiling slightly into his chest.

Dumbledore recovered from his shock sufficiently more quickly than the rest of them and said, "Well that's…splendid dear boy, splendid. There is a…second part to that plan," he added, looking at Severus guardedly.

"Oh?" Severus asked, with such a reasonable expression that Harry wondered if perhaps the real Severus had in fact been killed when he'd been unmasked as a traitor, and that the man standing before him was a Death Eater disguised with Polyjuice.

"I would like Harry to go with you."

"What?" Harry said, snapping his head round so quickly to look at Dumbledore that he wasn't sure how he hadn't broken his neck. "Headmaster, what are you talking about?"

"It would be an excellent opportunity for you to continue your education with Severus."

"In Potions?" Harry asked with a slight squeak to his voice, earning himself a scathing laugh from Severus.

"I would hardly think so, Mr Potter," the man said with a raised eyebrow.

"No, not in Potions Harry, in Defence," said Dumbledore.

"Oh," said Harry quietly. "But…but I hardly think it's a good idea for me to go with Professor Snape, I'm sure he wouldn't want me there, he wouldn't – "

"He can speak for himself Mr Potter," came the low voice and Harry turned back to look at the man.

"Well?" Harry asked. "You don't want me going with you, do you? I'm sure you couldn't think of anything worse."

"Oh? And when did you become so adept at Legilimency?"

Harry blushed slightly but stood his ground nevertheless. "So you _do_ want me to come with you?" he asked sceptically.

Severus straightened himself up slightly and turned his attention away from Harry and back to Dumbledore. "If you wish Potter to come with me so he can continue to _attempt_ to learn from me, then I have no objections."

Dumbledore was clearly as taken aback as everyone else in the room and for a moment all the man could do with blink owlishly as the former Potions Master. Harry was certain that Dumbledore had expected all-out war in response to his suggestion, as indeed Harry himself had. And yet there the man stood, tall and proud, stating with perfect equanimity that he didn't have a problem with it. What had happened to the world?

"Well that's…most decent of you Severus," Dumbledore said when he seemed to have recovered sufficiently enough from his shock.

Severus gave a curt nod and Ron seemed to be trying very hard to stop himself from laughing. Harry glared at him; he couldn't imagine what about this situation could be remotely amusing. He noted that although everyone seemed to have been concerned with whether or not Severus would agree to the proposition, nobody had given a second thought to how he felt about the matter.

While Dumbledore informed them that they would going to McGonagall's cottage in Northern Scotland, Harry sat and thought about how on earth he was going to manage living alone with the tall, glowering man. It was the stuff of his fantasies, but even he wasn't stupid enough to imagine that what transpired in his dreams could possibly translate into reality. It was true that in the year since Hogwarts had disbanded and he and Severus had worked together that some of the previous hostility had dissipated somewhat, but things were by no means easy.

Now they were expected to exist alone together in a remote Scottish cottage in the arse-end of nowhere, how was that supposed to work? It would be torture, pure and simple, Harry decided. While they were at Grimmauld Place or out on an Order mission, things were relatively safe; there were others to buffer them, others to talk to and take the pressure off, but for it to be just the two of them, day after day, surely Harry's secret would come to light.

"Well, I suggest that the two of you be allowed some time to pack and we can sort you out with a portkey," came Dumbledore's voice, breaking through his painful musings.

Everyone seemed to take that as their cue for dismissal, and the party broke up, everyone apparently having other things to attend to. Harry sat at the table, watching as Hermione and the twins left the room and Remus and Tonks apparated away. He stared down into his cold, half-drunk cup of tea and strained his ears slightly to hear Ron lean in and whisper to Severus,

"Are you sure you'll be ok?"

"Of course, it's just a cottage Ron."

"You know what I mean."

"I know full well what you mean and I'd advise you to let the matter drop."

"You're a stubborn git," Ron hissed. "You can still change your mind."

"I have no intention of doing so, let that be an end to it."

Severus swept past him and Harry glanced up in time to see Ron rolling his eyes and glaring after the man, but it wasn't the kind of glare Ron used to wear in his dealings with the Slytherin. This one looked like the kind he wore when he was chastising Harry, the kind he wore when he was worried about someone he cared about. Harry wasn't quick enough to look away by the time Ron's gaze moved to him, so he simply settled for giving his friend a shrug and a wan smile.

Ron returned the smile then left the kitchen. Harry wondered if perhaps he was going off after Severus, but he decided that whatever was going on between the two men, it was unlikely that Ron was daft enough to push the man.

Harry found that he was suddenly alone in the kitchen and he blinked at the empty room feeling as though his world had slipped slightly askew. When he had woken up that morning it was a day like any other, there had been nothing out of the ordinary to alert him to the fact that by the afternoon things were going to go so spectacularly off course. He felt as though he had slipped into an alternate universe; how else could he explain the fact that everyone expected he and Severus to co-habit peacefully hundreds of miles away from the rest of the Order?

He groaned and let his head fall into his hands, trying not to imagine what the next few weeks would possibly have in store for him. He managed to push his ridiculous thoughts about the black-haired man to the back of his mind most days, but that was a lot easier to do when they sometimes went days without seeing each other and when he was living in a house that made The Burrow look devoid of life. How the hell was he going to cope when it was just the two of them in a remote cottage day after day?

"My life is a farce," he whispered into the silence, wishing that Voldemort would attack in the next few minutes and put him out of his misery.

* * *

A few hours later and he and Severus were standing side by side in front of the cottage. It was beautiful, there was no two ways about it, and the crashing sea in the distance put a smile on Harry's face that was hard to shift. Severus unlocked the door and let himself in, Harry following behind him, taking in his surroundings as his eyes adjusted to the slightly dimmer light inside.

He shrugged off his outer robe and hung it on the peg in the little porch they were standing in then moved further into the cottage to explore. The first door on the left led into a nice-sized living room with a cosy little fireplace, a couple of comfy-looking armchairs, a coffee table and several bookcases laden with books. The wide window housed a pretty little window-seat and let in a large amount of light, which was at the moment bathing the room in the low sunshine of the late September evening.

Opposite the living room was the kitchen, which was a large, farmhouse-style kitchen complete with a rustic wooden table and chairs, a deep-set sink, an Aga that Harry was sure had been magically enhanced and an array of cabinets and cupboards that looked as though they had been newly refurbished.

Towards the back of the house was a little library and behind the stairs Harry could see a little door that must have led down to a cellar. He ascended the stairs and found that there were three decent-sized bedrooms and, mercifully, two bathrooms. Deciding that Severus would knock him into the middle of next week if he took the main bedroom, Harry claimed the second largest room for himself, placing his shrunken baggage on the centre of the bed, intending to see to it later.

It was a cheerful, pleasant room with deep red curtains, a brass-framed bed and a sweet little fireplace with a squishy green armchair in front of it. It was far more homely than the room he had claimed for himself in Grimmauld Place, and he couldn't help but think, with no small touch of humour, that if he and Severus had to be sentenced to purgatory, it was a good thing it was a comfortable one.

Having fully acquainted himself with the property, he padded back down the stairs and found Severus in the kitchen, idly looking through the cupboards and taking stock of the larder and magically cooled storage room.

"I take it we don't need to put any additional wards up?" Harry said as he leant against the doorframe. He had been hoping to make the man jump but Severus didn't miss a beat, simply continued perusing the food, obviously aware of his presence.

"We can take a closer look at them tomorrow but Minerva is nothing if not cautious. The place is safe enough for now."

Harry nodded and folded his arms over his chest. "I suppose you'll want to start training right away?"

Severus closed the cupboard he had been looking in and turned his head to look at Harry, the faintest glint of amusement in his expression. "I wouldn't say that Mr Potter."

"Oh?" asked Harry, cautiously.

"Well, I don't know about you," Severus said, opening another cupboard and obviously finding what he had been looking for, "but I intend to take a couple of days holiday. I'd say I've earnt it." He produced a dusty bottle of brandy and held it slightly out in front of him, as if throwing down the gauntlet.

Harry could do little more than give an amused breath of laughter, unsure quite how to deal with this heretofore unknown version of the man. He took a seat at the rough-grained table and Severus produced two glasses and sat down next to Harry. He hovered the bottle of brandy over the glass nearest to Harry and quirked an eyebrow in his direction. Harry nodded and the man poured a generous helping of the darkest-looking brandy Harry had ever seen, then gave his own glass the same treatment.

He re-corked the bottle and held his glass up; Harry took the hint and clinked his own glass against it, knowing that he was staring at Severus, but unable to stop. He sipped the brandy, still looking at Severus over the rim of his glass while he rolled his tongue around the taste.

"That's…unusual," he said, running his tongue over his lips, aware that Severus was watching as he did so.

"I believe it's a McGonagall family recipe."

"Why am I not surprised that that woman makes her own brandy?" said Harry with a snort. He swirled the liquid around in his glass then set it down on the table. "Were you serious about a holiday?" he asked and saw the amused glint in Severus' eye once again.

"I was," the man said softly. "I've spent the last 20 years of my life in servitude and espionage and although it hasn't come to the end I would have preferred, it _is_ ended and I want to take a moment to appreciate it."

There was a softness in Severus' face that Harry hadn't seen before and he realised that the man looked freer than he ever had done. An enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders and for the first time in many years the man was his own master. It had to be a heady feeling and Harry could forgive the man a little uncharacteristic cheerfulness in the circumstances.

"I'll drink to that," Harry said with a small smile, one that was surprisingly returned. It was the first time Severus had smiled at him without any malice or sarcasm behind it, and Harry's breath caught in his throat slightly. He busied himself with taking a somewhat large gulp of his brandy, still feeling the man's eyes on him, causing a hot blush to spread across his cheeks.

He dipped his head slightly and mentally cursed himself for being so insipid. Severus would never blush, he was sure of that, come to think of it he was sure most mature adults who had had a modicum of sexual experience didn't blush. He had to get a grip of himself; he couldn't spend the next couple of months turning into a beetroot at every interaction they had.

He looked up when he felt the heat across his face had subsided sufficiently and said, "What does your idea of a holiday involve?"

Severus considered the question for a moment then said, "I have no idea."

Harry couldn't help but burst out laughing and Severus looked at him as though he were a little tapped in the head. "Neither do I," Harry said through his laughter. "What a pathetic pair."

Severus inclined his head in sight agreement and set his glass down on the table, his long fingers wrapping around it as he moved it in small circles around the table.

"It's beautiful round here," Harry said, still smiling, "and the weather is good for late September. That's good enough of a start for me."

"Yes," said Severus, raising his glass to his lips once again. "Yes I'd be inclined to agree."

* * *

Despite his best intentions, Harry awoke late the next day. He stretched lazily in his bed and the frame creaked beneath him. It annoyed the hell out of him when he had been trying to sleep, prone as he was to shifting positions several times before he fell asleep. He had to admit though, it was a very comfortable bed and he had had one of the best night's sleep he'd in a while. He wondered how Severus had faired.

 _Great_ , he thought, _been awake for five seconds and already thinking about him._

He threw the bedcovers aside and got up, moving over to the window and pulling the curtains open slightly. It was another beautiful day and Harry could see the sea in the distance, glistening in the sunshine. He smiled and thought, not for the first time, that his life was sometimes very strange.

He used the bathroom and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, noting that Severus didn't seem to be anywhere upstairs. He trotted down the stairs and paused at the bottom step, hearing faint clinking sounds close by. It took him a moment to realise that the noises were coming from the cellar and he moved over to the door behind the stairs, pausing on the threshold and listening.

"Professor?" he called. "Are you down here?"

"Were you expecting someone else?" came the response, and Harry had to wonder, yet again, at the lack of acidity in the man's voice.

He walked carefully down the cold stone steps, taking care not to trip on their narrowness. The cellar was a large, dark space, lit by sconces on the wall. Severus was standing at a long workbench, setting up what even Harry could identify as potions equipment.

"I thought you were meant to be having a holiday?" he said in amusement.

"It seems," Severus replied, retrieving a couple of different-sized cauldrons from a box in the corner, "that I cannot easily accustom myself to inactivity."

"Did you just call me lazy?" Harry asked with a grin.

"I've called you worse."

"True, very true," Harry conceded. "Will you be brewing today?"

"There are several things that I need to get started on, the bases alone for some potions I have to make will take days simply to simmer."

"Blood replenishing draught?" Harry asked, nearly laughing out loud when Severus turned to face him with a look of unmasked surprise. "I did listen occasionally," he said with a smile.

Severus shook his head in mild disbelief and returned his attention to setting up his work space.

"Wonders will never cease," he said softly. "I have several potions that need attention; just because I've been banished to this place doesn't mean my skills aren't needed."

"As if that was ever in doubt," Harry replied, trying to smirk as he did so lest the man read the note of sincerity in his voice. "Well…do you fancy breakfast?"

Severus cast a pointed look at the clock on the wall, which informed Harry that it was half 11. "Ah," he said, embarrassed that he had slept so long. "Brunch then?"

"Brunch?" Severus said with a snort. "I am not a middle-aged woman with a rich husband and nothing to occupy my time."

Harry couldn't help the laugh that escaped him, and he was sure the faintest of smiles was tugging at the corner of the other man's mouth, despite the fact that he kept his head bent over the workbench.

"Well, I'm going to go and make something, come up if you're hungry."

Harry happily ensconced himself in the kitchen, knowing that he was in comfortable territory. The larder was well stocked and the magical Aga was easily worked out quickly enough. Soon he had bacon, sausages, eggs and hash browns cooking merrily away and a couple of large, juicy tomatoes slowly grilling. He had made enough to feed a small army, but he was hungry and he would feel very gratified if he could get Severus to eat a little more while they were in the cottage. The man was too thin and although he was adept at keeping himself alive, he was not so skilled at looking after himself.

The smell must have tempted him up from the cellar, despite his assertion that he didn't do brunch, and Harry was just dishing up when the man strode into the kitchen and took a seat at the table. Harry raised an eyebrow at him and he shrugged, saying, "A man's got to eat."

"Eating is something you need to do more of," Harry said as he put one of the full plates in front of him, settling down opposite with his own.

"If you intend to behave like a clucking hen for the entirety of our time here then I'm warning you now, I shall have no compunction in hexing you."

Harry gave a soft laugh as he spread a liberal amount of butter on his toast. "Duly noted, sir," he said, watching as Severus took a tentative bite. There was silence for a moment before the man looked up and pronounced,

"Passable."

Harry rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Damned by faint praise."

"Faint is better than none."

They ate in a silence that should have been awkward but that Harry found strangely companionable. Severus wasn't exactly garrulous and Harry had long since learnt that he had little talent for small talk, not that the man would welcome it if he did. He had no desire to sit and try and make uncomfortable conversation; he would speak when he had something to say, and he hoped his housemate would do the same.

When they had both finished and Harry noted smugly that Severus' plate was as empty as his own, the man got to his feet and collected both plates, taking them over to the sink.

"You don't have to do that," Harry said, surprised at the action.

Severus shrugged and said, "You cooked."

Harry couldn't stop the surprised snort that escaped from his nose and Severus turned to look at him with his patented raised eyebrow. "Why Professor," Harry said, trying not to giggle, "I never had you down for reasonable."

"If you don't mind your manners, I shall show you just how unreasonable I can be."

"You were my teacher for six and a half years sir, I'm well aware of how unreasonable you can be," Harry said, earning himself a withering look before Severus turned back to attend to the dishes.

Harry smiled to himself and turned to look out of the window, an idea suddenly striking him. "Fancy a walk?" he said impetuously.

Severus turned to look at him once more and appeared to consider the offer for a moment. Harry braced himself for the refusal, surprised then when instead the man replied, "It would be a shame to waste such temperate weather."

The weather was in fact a good deal more than temperate and as they strolled along the cliff edge Harry rejoiced in the feel of the unusually warm sun bathing his skin. It seemed that Autumn had yet to take hold over Britain, and Harry decided to enjoy the reprieve while it lasted.

The previous evening he had taken a look at the framed map that hung in the hallway. It seemed that the McGonagall clan owned 20 acres of the land surrounding the cottage, including a small piece of the cove that lay below the cliff. When he was sure that the wards were strong enough, he intended to do a little exploring. For now though, he was content to walk alongside the quiet man next to him, who moved with the usual elegance Harry had come to expect, his hands clasped behind his back, his face turned out towards the sea.

"I was wondering," Harry said, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible so as not to break the overall feeling of peace, "would you mind…could I perhaps help you with your potions?"

The look Severus gave him was enough to induce a grin to spread across his face. He tried to control it and said, "Don't look at me like that. It was a serious question."

"Why on earth would you want to?" Severus asked, seeming genuinely confused by the request.

Harry sighed and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Hogwarts disbanded before I could finish my education. I know you have other things to teach me, more important things I daresay, but I'd like to be able to feel that I have _something_ to show for my time at Hogwarts."

Severus stopped walking and turned to face Harry fully, a strange look of scrutiny settling in his features as he did so. "That is…one of the most grown up things I think I've ever heard you say."

Harry couldn't hold his laughter. "I don't know whether you've just complimented or insulted me."

"Neither," Severus replied. "It was merely an observation."

"I know you think I've always been an empty-headed moron – "

"I've never used those exact words," Severus interrupted.

"Only because your vocabulary's better than mine," Harry countered. "But I'm not a child anymore," he said softly, "I'll be 20 next year and I want to feel that I've accomplished something…something beyond being The Boy Who Lived. It's a small thing, continuing my education in just one of the subjects I once took, but it's something I can ask for, and so I am."

There was that strange scrutinising look again. It was odd to feel such a look of consideration aimed at him, and Harry wondered what exactly it was the man was looking for, and if he was, in any way, measuring up.

"You're right," the man said eventually, and Harry blinked in surprise at hearing those two words spoken together. "You're not a child anymore," Severus clarified. He paused and seemed to be trying to retain a sense of composure as he took a few deep breaths. "Very well then, if that's what you want then I shall oblige."

"Thank you sir," Harry said with a smile, hoping that Severus could see his sincerity.

"So much for a holiday," said Severus with a wry quirk of his eyebrow, then turned and resumed his mild-paced walking.

* * *

"I don't understand why that's important," said Harry as he peered over Severus' shoulder.

"Because of the transitional properties of the base," Severus replied, his voice soft as he reached for the chopping board and added the carefully diced arrow root. "If the arrow root was shredded rather than diced then its absorption properties would be different and we'd end up with – "

"A thicker solution," Harry finished, pleased he'd understood.

"Exactly. And why would that be bad?"

Harry chewed his lip for a moment, racking his brains before answering, "Because the thicker the solution in this instance the less potent it will be."

"Spot on. Now, how many times counter-clockwise should it be stirred?"

They had been working in much the same way for the whole day. The first time Harry had asked a question he had expected it to be met with sarcasm or disdain, but instead Severus had simply stopped what he had been doing and had turned to address the question levelly and without even the slightest implication that Harry was an imbecile.

He was still somewhat brusque, and Harry imagined that an obvious question would be met with the sneer it might have deserved, but he was endeavouring very hard not to ask such questions. He found himself truly interested in what they were doing, and Severus' patient and level responses made Harry feel as though he had stepped into a strange new world.

Perhaps, he thought, his assertion the previous evening that he was no longer a child had something to do with it. Perhaps it had opened Severus' eyes to the fact that they were heading more towards being equals and his behaviour should shift accordingly. He knew better than to keep his hopes up though, and was waiting for the other shoe to drop, no doubt when he eventually proved to the man just how ignorant and immature he really was.

Even so, despite his fear that the peaceful amity was tentative at best, he still found himself enjoying the time he was spending with Severus. The man's intelligence had always impressed him, and watching him work was truly a privilege that few could boast. He also couldn't help but revel in how close he had been able to be physically to Severus, and there had been a couple of times when he had stood closer to him that was strictly necessary, under the guise of peering into a simmering cauldron, while drinking in the pleasure he derived from being near to him.

It was foolish, he knew that, but he couldn't help himself. He'd been fighting it for the last few months, and that had been easier to do when he could often go weeks without seeing the man, but now he had him all to himself, was able to study his face and watch his movements whenever he wanted, he found himself unable to deny his feelings. Not that he could have put have a name to those feelings if he'd have tried of course. Lust? Desire? Longing? Perhaps it was safer if they remained unnamed for the time being, if he simply allowed them to swirl around in his stomach and along the edge of his consciousness.

"Any why," Severus' voice broke through his reverie, "would you add groundsel?"

"For its purgative effect. If you're counteracting a spell that can release bile then it would be important to make the victim vomit as soon as possible."

"Quite so. How should it be added to the mixture?"

"After the leaves have been boiled in water and vinegar for at least 12 hours beforehand," Harry replied, surprised at how easily the answer came to him. "Don't look at me like that," he added in response to the raised eyebrows that were directed at him, "I'm not a complete idiot."

"My apologies," came the amused response as Severus turned to lower the light underneath the bubbling cauldron. "Your tenure at Hogwarts led me to believe otherwise."

Harry was about to respond when he realised that there was no malice behind the words, only a gentle teasing that had never been present in his dealings with the man before. He grinned and said, "Yeah well, yours had led me to believe that you hated teaching. Imagine my surprise."

Severus didn't look at him, but he was sure he could see the corner of his mouth twitch slightly, and that made Harry smile more than any response could have done.

"I'd better go and get started on dinner," he said, hopping off the tall stool he had been sitting on while he watched Severus. "Any preference?"

"Nothing too heavy," Severus replied, keeping his attention on the mixture as he stirred it carefully. "I intend to start your training after we've eaten."

"Decided the holiday's over have you?" Harry asked cheekily and Severus tilted his head slightly to look at him.

"You'd best prepare yourself Mr Potter," he said silkily, "the holiday is most certainly over for you."

* * *

Harry barely had time to blink before the curse came his way. He managed to get out a clearly-spoken _Protego_ and the curse bounced and dissipated into the air with a slight fizz. He hadn't expected that his training would begin with shield charms, but he could see how it made sense. Severus had told him that he wanted to examine his form before they delved into anything other than a basic shield charm and so there they were outside the cottage in the last sun of the mild September evening.

Another curse came his way and he deflected it again, but this time noticed the resistance against the barrier he had created and felt himself pushed back a little as the spell returned to Severus, who obliterated it deftly and immediately sent another flinging towards him. Again he cast _Protego_ but he felt the spell slice through the barrier without a second's pause and hit him squarely in the chest.

He was thrown backwards across the lawn and landed with a harsh thud, knocking the air out of himself. He blinked up at the darkening sky and tried to force himself to take deep breaths in, succeeding only in making himself cough. He leant over onto his side and a figure loomed over him before a hand was extended. He coughed again and wrapped his fingers around it, letting himself be hauled to his feet. He swayed slightly as he found himself upright once more, and Severus' free hand came to rest on his shoulder, steadying him.

"You see now how a simple shield charm is largely insufficient?"

"I do, despite the fact that you said we'd be sticking to basics," Harry said as he felt himself recover his senses.

"I like to keep you on your toes."

"Evidently you prefer knocking me off them," Harry replied wryly, realising that he was still holding on to Severus' hand. He let it go with a tinge of embarrassment and the comforting arm on his shoulder disappeared.

"A basic shielding charm will, at best, slow the curse down, but it won't stop you from being hit by it."

"So I'm going to be learning more effective ones?"

"Precisely."

Harry nodded, rubbing at his lower back, feeling that he was in for a hell of a bruise in the morning. "So, how was my form them? That was the purpose of this wasn't it? Or do you just enjoy seeing me knocked on my arse?"

Severus snorted and replied, "Both, obviously." He moved away slightly as if to appraise Harry further, and tilted his head a little to one side. Harry couldn't help but think that it was an alarmingly endearing gesture. "Your posture is surprisingly good for someone who's spent their entire life slouching and your stance is strong. Those two things will stand you in good stead I should think."

Harry looked at him for a moment or two before allowing himself to smile. "Did you just tell me I did something right?" he asked, and Severus rolled his eyes in response.

"I told you that you could stand on your own two feet. If you wish to interpret that as a compliment then who am I to stop you?" the man replied and Harry was sure he saw a flicker of amusement in those dark eyes. "You'll need more than that to master these shields."

"Exactly how many shields are we talking about here?" Harry asked, noting again the use of the plural.

Severus gave a thoughtful shrug of one of his shoulders and said, "That continues to be a point of debate amongst many leading figures on the subject."

"Oh?" Harry asked, his interest piqued.

"Some argue you need a specific shield for each curse."

"But you don't subscribe to that theory?" Harry asked, noting the slightest hint of a sneer.

"No I don't. I think in the heat of battle it's hard enough to determine what curse has been sent your way, let alone trying to organise your mind sufficiently to throw up the correct shield. I would argue that five would suffice."

"Five? Well that sounds do-able."

A black eyebrow quirked at him. "You think so? Well, we shall see how optimistic you are after a few more of these sessions."

"Hoping to break me sir?" Harry couldn't help but grin at the older man, earning himself a deeply unimpressed look in response.

"You are not a young Hippogriff, I shouldn't think it was possible to 'break' you."

"A fair few have tried," Harry said, his grin fading. "Damn well would have done if it weren't for you," he added quietly.

"Potter – "

Harry waved his hand, embarrassed suddenly at the foolish notion of getting sentimental in front of Severus. "I know, I know," he said, his voice sounding hoarse, "you were just doing your duty. Doesn't mean I don't appreciate it."

There was silence for a moment and Harry turned his head towards the cliff. He couldn't see the sea from this angle, but he could hear it and when the wind carried towards him he could smell the salt in the air and, he fancied, taste it on his lips.

"It wasn't always duty," came Severus' voice to his left, quiet and soft. He turned to look at him and the man was also looking out to the horizon, his head held high, his profile shadowed slightly by the dim light of the setting evening sun.

"No?" Harry asked, his voice equally as quiet.

Severus shook his head and Harry turned back to face outward. His heart was thumping and he wasn't sure why; he could hear his pulse beating in his ears, louder than the waves in the distance, and he swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. "Oh," was all he could manage, which, he decided, was probably for the best.

* * *

 **AN:** Well, that's it for now, please review and let me know what you thought of it. In the meantime, please take a look at my other fics and see if any grab your fancy :) Cithara xx


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

 _~*~Present Day~*~_

"Morning, did you sleep well?" Severus asked as Harry stepped bleary-eyed into the kitchen the following morning.

"Um…no…not really," he replied, sliding into one of the kitchen chairs opposite Severus.

The man put his paper aside and gave him an appraising look. "Pain?"

Harry nodded tiredly. "I managed a couple of hours, but it was too insistent, I couldn't ignore it."

"Well, have some breakfast, let yourself wake up and then come down to the potions cellar."

Harry allowed himself a small smile. "Is it still the same?" he asked softly.

Severus looked at him for a moment, his jaw twitching slightly, before he got up from the table and said as he left the room, "Yes, exactly the same."

Harry had no appetite for breakfast, indeed he had no appetite for much these days. After half a mug of coffee, which he didn't really want anyway, he steeled himself and made his way to the potions cellar. He hovered on the threshold for a moment, his senses overwhelmed by the bittersweet familiarity of the smells that were rising up the stairs. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, then slowly descended into the room itself, noting that Severus had indeed been right; the room was exactly the same.

He pulled up a stool and hauled himself up onto it, trying not to disturb Severus as he decanted a simmering cauldron into several waiting vials. Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling at the man's careful, measured movements, remembering all the times he had sat like this in the cellar, watching and learning as Severus spoke in soft, low tones, imparting what he knew while Harry enjoyed every minute of it.

There were other memories of course, other memories of that voice, those hands, this bloody room, but now wasn't the time for that, perhaps it never would be. He pushed them aside, just as he was so used to doing, and handed Severus a damp rag, offering him a small smile as he did so.

"Thank you," Severus said, wiping his hands, returning the smile slightly. He reached up to the shelf above his head and pulled out a notebook, flipping the pages with his long fingers until he found a blank page. He plucked a pen (an ordinary biro Harry noted with amusement) from a pot on the workbench and made a couple of notes before taking his own seat opposite Harry.

"Now," he said, looking up at Harry, "I need a list of everything you're currently taking, including any muggle remedies," he said, his pen hovering over the page.

Harry sighed and rubbed his knuckles along the fabric of his jeans. "It depends from day to day I suppose," he said, going through the catalogue of things in his mind. "Pain relief potions, muscle relaxant potions, ibuprofen, paracetamol, sleeping draughts…" He trailed off, trying to think if that was it, but he couldn't be certain. There had been times, times he wasn't going to admit to Severus, that he had drugged himself into oblivion, just to make the pain stop.

Severus wrote as Harry spoke, nodding as he did so. "I'm going to have to ask you to stop taking everything, just for a short time."

"I don't know if I can," Harry replied, his voice small and quiet.

Severus looked back up, his brow furrowed. "That bad?"

Harry paused for a second, then gave a reluctant nod. "Some days it's unbearable," he said with a shaky breath.

"I need you to get everything out of your system," Severus said gently. "The kind of magic you've been hit with could be being affected by what you're taking. It could hinder our chances of finding what you've been hit with and the most effective way of treating it."

Harry looked down at his shoes, the same kind he'd worn since he was a teenager, despite the fact that he was now in his mid-20s. "I um…" He cleared his throat, frowning down at the battered, scuffed toes in front of him. "I've used opiates a few times, more than few times really. I…suppose I got a bit dependent on them at one point. I just wanted the pain to stop…just for a bit."

There was silence for a moment and Harry continued to glare at his shoes. He nearly missed his name being spoken in a soft, gentle tone, then a more insistent, "Harry." He looked up, relieved not to see the disappointment he was certain he would find.

"Why didn't you come back to us sooner?" Severus asked, the look of genuine concern in his face almost heart-breaking to see.

Harry wrapped his arms around himself and shrugged. "I hoped it would go away," he said, hating how feeble he sounded.

"You know enough about curses to know that that almost never happens."

"It's not so easy to be rational about it when all you can think about is the pain. I'm here now," he added softly.

Severus nodded and lowered his head; Harry rather suspected it was so he wouldn't be able to see whatever other emotions were lurking in the black eyes. "We're going to do everything we can for you, but the next few days won't be easy. Are you prepared for it?"

Harry took a wobbly breath and dug his fingers into his thighs. "I don't have a choice."

* * *

"And now take it to the other side and hold."

"You bloody take it to the other side and hold."

"The more energy you use abusing me, the less you'll have for your rehab."

"I'll have enough energy to give you a thump," Harry mumbled as he stretched his arm across his body and tried to reach down to his opposite foot.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're an abominable patient?" asked Ron as he stood opposite, a pen and notebook in his hands, monitoring Harry's progress.

"Severus has mentioned it once or twice," Harry replied, stretching himself back up slowly.

"I'll bet," Ron replied with a grin. He snapped his notebook shut and placed it on the coffee table then shoved his pen behind his ear. It made him look about ten years younger and Harry had to smile despite his discomfort. "Lie down on the sofa," Ron said, unbuttoning his cuffs and starting to roll up his sleeves.

"I don't like the look in your eye," Harry replied, nevertheless toeing off his shoes and moving to perch on the edge of the couch.

"Don't flatter yourself mate, I've never had those kinds of thoughts about you."

"Liar."

Ron snorted then poked his head outside the door and shouted, "Sev, come in the living room for a moment, I need your help."

"Why do you need his help?" Harry asked, instantly feeling anxious.

"He needs to know what to do; I'm not going to be here every day."

"But – "

"Harry don't be a prick. This is physical therapy, it's to help with the pain."

"I know that but – "

"Lie down on the sofa before I hex you myself."

Harry sighed and flung himself face-down onto the sofa, propping his head up with a cushion that he punched into submission first.

"I'd really rather you didn't abuse my furniture," came Severus's voice as Harry buried his face in the cushion, which, he noted, smelt disobligingly like the man himself. He had the childish urge to say that actually it wasn't Severus' furniture, most of it he had simply inherited from McGonagall, but he decided that that would be a decidedly foolish thing to do while he was currently lying prone at the man's mercy.

He settled for simply grunting, shifting slightly to allow himself to breathe. He heard Ron sit down beside him and he braced himself. He was in no mood for either the pain that he knew was to follow, or for the awkwardness of having his best friend essentially give him a massage.

"Right Sev, you'll need to do this for Harry once a day, preferably in the evening. Don't be afraid to put a bit of muscle into it, this isn't supposed to be relaxing." Harry didn't need to look up to know that Severus would be smirking in response. "Right, now position your thumbs here just either side of the trapezius muscles and press down hard for ten seconds," Ron said, doing as he was instructing. Harry bit his lip as the pain rolled through him, wishing very much that he could turn around and push Ron off the sofa.

"Now you need to do that down the rhomboideus, applying and releasing pressure in ten second bursts, then you need to use the heel of your hand to create these circular motions from the sixth to the twelfth thoracic vertebrae."

Harry tuned Ron's words out after a while. He had no interest in learning the terminology for all the places that Ron was torturing. He was in agony and Ron was in no way being gentle with him. _Physical therapy my arse_ , he thought, squeezing his eyes shut against the onslaught of pain as Ron's strong fingers worked to make his muscles submit.

"Christ Harry, you're wound more tightly than a spring," Ron said as he continued to manipulate the body beneath him.

"You're telling me as if don't know," Harry ground out against the cushion, wondering what he had done so wrong in his life to be subjected to such punishment.

"You'll need to put a bit of strength into the obliques," Ron said again to Severus, "and given how much pain Harry's having in his hips, you'll need to try and really work your fingers into the fascia muscle here," he said, pressing his thumb into the line of muscle just above Harry's backside, causing Harry to bite the edge of the cushion in an attempt to muffle the pained, strangled noise that tried to make its way out of his throat.

"I hate you," he half-sobbed, a couple of tears escaping out of the corner of his eyes.

"I love a grateful patient," Ron said, and Harry could hear the grin in his voice. He was definitely going to thump the prat.

The demonstration continued all the way down his legs and for a couple of minutes after he simply lay there, hating everyone and everything, listening while Ron instructed Severus to ensure that Harry did his exercises daily. They could both sod off as far as he was concerned, what did they know anyway?

He had been off all forms of painkillers for three days now and he wanted to kill himself. Severus had forbidden so much as ibuprofen to pass his lips and so even the mild tension headache that had settled itself behind his eyes couldn't be chased away.

"Come on Boy Wonder, up you get," said Ron, and Harry felt himself being lifted bodily off the sofa. Bloody hell but that git was strong, years of defending himself against a battalion of older brothers had seen to that.

"You're a sadist," he growled, twisting himself from side to side to see if his spine would re-align itself as nature had intended.

"I'm a doctor," Ron corrected imperiously.

"Same bloody thing," Harry countered.

Ron rolled his eyes and turned to face Severus, who was standing with his arms folded, looking as he always did when taking an academic interest in something. "How's the pain relief potion coming?" Ron asked.

"It's a slow process," Severus replied. "At the moment I'm relying more on old-fashioned muggle apothecary remedies, it's too risky to have Harry ingest anything magical in case it tampers with whatever magic he's been hit with."

"Mm," said Ron, retrieving his satchel from the armchair where he'd previously slung it. He fished out Harry's notes and quickly scanned his eyes over them. "The latest trace scans showed elements of Eastern European magic in your system."

"Well I was in Bulgaria," Harry replied with a shrug.

"Even so, it shows higher levels than I'd expect," Ron said, pursing his lips in thought.

"Hang on, are you saying that magic leaves traces of its country of origin?"

"If it's old enough. I've seen it a couple of times in my patients, and Bill reckons he can spot an Egyptian curse from a mile off. I think we'd do well to focus our attentions on Eastern European curses."

Severus nodded in agreement. "Not a bad idea, at least it gives us something to concentrate on."

"Good. Well you can have a chat with Bill about it at the weekend, Hermione too. I'm sure she'll have a few ideas." Ron turned back to look at Harry. "You are coming aren't you? To Elodie's birthday party?"

"Of course I am," Harry said with a touch of indignation. "She's my goddaughter too."

"That hasn't always meant that much to you," Ron replied, his expression harder than usual.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, feeling his anger rise.

"You know exactly what it means. How many times have you seen Elodie since she was born?"

"I…I see her plenty," Harry said defensively. "Look I'm sorry my work takes me out of the country but we can't all live round the corner from our entire family!"

"We don't mind your work taking you out of the country, Harry," Ron argued. "What we mind is the fact that nothing seems to bring you back to it."

"That isn't fair."

"Isn't it? You're Elodie's godfather and yet I'll bet you can't tell me the first thing about her. In fact, I'll be surprised if she actually recognises you on Saturday."

"You can be a real git sometimes Ron, you know that?"

"Yeah well I learnt from you mate."

"If you're going to be like this then I don't want your help. I'll sort myself out without it."

"Oh yeah, you've managed really well so far haven't you?"

"I've managed worse problems without you Ron, don't bloody flatter yourself."

He pushed past Ron and Severus, out of the living room, into the porch and out of the cottage, slamming the door behind him. He stalked over to the cliff edge, his jaw set firm, his nails digging into the skin of his palms as he clenched his fists tightly.

He was shaking with anger and his pulse was uncomfortably quick. He could feel the headache he'd been warding off all day fight to gain a stronghold behind his eyeballs and the pain in his back and hips seemed worse than it had ever been.

The worst thing about it all was that he wasn't really sure he was in the right. He hadn't seen much of Elodie and the little girl was going to be five in a couple of days. He was her godfather and Ron was probably right – there was no guarantee she would even know who he was when he turned up. He didn't even know if she'd like the present he had bought her.

He released a shaky sigh and tried to concentrate on the breaking waves in the distance, but they were of no comfort to him. He became aware of a presence by his side and eventually a deep, level voice said,

"He's gone."

"Good."

"You don't mean that."

Harry sighed. "No, no I suppose I don't." He clenched his fists again and said, "You agree with him, don't you?"

Severus paused for a moment, no doubt considering his response, then said, "What you do with your life is your own affair." There was a long moment of silence before he eventually added, "But you can't blame people for missing you."

Harry felt the comforting presence subside and he didn't have to turn his head to see that Severus was walking back to the cottage. He emitted a noise of frustration and, for one brief moment, considered throwing himself off the cliff.

* * *

Harry stood in the garden of Hermione and George's home, nursing a paper cup of sadly non-alcoholic punch and looking around at all the people who were probably thinking the same thing that Ron was. He had been given a warm welcome and, much to his relief, his goddaughter not only knew who he was, but had been thrilled to see him, throwing herself at his legs and insisting on being picked up.

She was now happily ensconced with Severus, who really was shockingly good with her, and genuinely seemed to adore the little girl. Harry would never have imagined the man would not only be so good with children, but that he would actually enjoy their company. Elodie, for her part, was enraptured by the man and never seemed to be more than a few feet away from him.

Harry sighed and put his untouched punch to one side, wishing that he didn't feel quite so much like a stranger amongst people who were supposed to be his family. He'd had the usual enthusiastic greeting from all the Weasleys, with the notable absence of Charlie. It had been seven years and the man had still left a gaping hole in the family with his death, one that was horribly noticeable at times like these.

He let his eyes roam over the assembled crowd, stopping when they fell on Ron and Draco. The two were standing alone, having some quiet, gentle conversation, the kind that Harry suspected wasn't really about anything in particular. Draco reached up and brushed a crumb of birthday cake off Ron's lip and Ron smiled brightly at him, leaning in for a slow, gentle kiss. Harry could sense the affection rolling off both men in waves and something tight clenched at his chest.

A jumble of emotions all vied for attention and it seemed that shame was winning. He should have known how serious this relationship was, he should have known how totally in love his best friend was and should have been there to see this relationship blossom into what it so obviously was now. He felt guilty too, guilty for thinking that there might be something going between Ron and Severus when Ron was so obviously devoted to the man standing in front of him, the man who had slipped his arm around his waist and was looking at him with such a beautifully unguarded expression that it made Harry's heart hurt.

A movement next to his elbow caught his attention and he turned to see Hermione standing next to him, her unfocused eyes looking, but unseeing, in Ron and Draco's direction. Hermione couldn't see them of course, Harry knew that, but she seemed to be smiling at them nevertheless.

"Hello 'Mione," he said softly.

"Hello Harry," she said with a smile. "You don't have to stand by yourself in the corner you know."

"How do you know I'm alone?" he asked.

Hermione raised her face towards the afternoon sun and tilted her head slightly as though she was listening for something. "It's true what they say you know, about being blind. Oh not that rubbish about your other senses kicking in necessarily, I don't suddenly have a super-human sense of taste, but I _can_ sense other things far more clearly than before, people's energies for example. I can sense yours a mile off."

"And what does my energy tell you?" Harry asked, wondering if Hermione was really telling the truth.

"What I already know," she replied, turning her face back to him, the unseeing eyes making Harry feel as though he were pinned to the spot. "You're unhappy," she concluded gently.

Harry looked away from her, back out to the garden. He couldn't see those eyes, couldn't think of all Hermione had lost that night she'd been hit with the blinding hex. She hadn't been able to see what George looked like on their wedding day, couldn't see how she herself looked in the beautiful wedding dress that she had chosen with Ginny's help, and worst of all, she had never been able to see what her own daughter looked like. It made Harry feel sick, and worse, it made him feel like a coward; facing Hermione was far too painful, so he did it as little as possible.

"I'm fine," he lied and Hermione shook her head.

"You think you can lie to me just because I'm blind?"

"Hermione – "

"Ron's told me about the curse," she said, cutting him off. "That amount of pain must be hard to deal with, I can only imagine. I hope they find a cure for you Harry, no one should have to live with that kind of pain indefinitely, it'll destroy you in the end."

"Hermione…" he tried again, but the words wouldn't come.

"You're welcome here any time Harry, I hope you know that." She paused and inclined her head away slightly, saying, "I sense Severus needs rescuing from my daughter, I'd better go and give him some respite."

She stood up on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to Harry's cheek, the familiar smell of her perfume and shampoo washing over his senses, then she moved off into the crowd, her movements sure despite her impairment. Harry watched as she moved over to Severus and Elodie, both of whom seemed a little put out to have been interrupted in whatever conversation they had been having.

Harry moved a little closer, on the pre-text of casting his eye over the buffet table, and strained his ears to listen to the interplay, glancing up every now and again to watch.

"Uncle Severus says I can," said Elodie, her hands on her hips.

"Uncle Severus is a pain," Hermione answered good-naturedly.

"I promise, only the most basic of potions," Severus said, "you can even have Neville supervise if you don't trust me."

 _Neville_? Harry thought. _Since when is he on first name terms with Neville_?

"I've said no potions until she's six," Hermione said, unknowingly mirroring her daughter and placing her hands on her hips.

"That's ages away," said Elodie, as though her mother hadn't quite grasped the concept of age, "I want to help Uncle Severus now. He says I'll be the best potions maker in the world if I start early enough."

"Uncle Severus is creating a monster. Don't think I've forgotten about my bloody rug," Hermione said, directing the last comment at the man himself.

"I said I'd buy you a new one," the man replied with a smirk. "You know full well that with the mix of yours and George's genes that she'll be starting plenty of fires under her own steam soon enough. Better surely that someone is there to help channel her energy."

"You rotten old Slytherin," Hermione said with a great deal of affection. Harry had to wonder when Severus had become part of this group, and when he himself had fallen from it.

"I'm going to be sorted into Slytherin when I go to Hogwarts," Elodie said assuredly.

"Almost certainly," Hermione answered wryly. "I don't know whether to be relieved or disappointed that Uncle Severus won't be there to be your Head of House."

"Relieved," Elodie asserted. "After all, if he was, he'd have to treat me like the other students, and neither of us would like that."

Severus' laughter was still one of the most perfect things Harry had ever heard, and when it was a real, heartfelt laugh with no malice or sarcasm attached to it, it made Harry's heart constrict in his chest. He had yet to decide whether the feeling was unpleasant or not.

Harry watched as Severus scooped the little girl up onto his lap, one hand steadying her while the other came to twirl in the vibrant, auburn curls that adorned her head. The two made quite a pair and even Harry couldn't stop the smile from sliding onto his lips.

"Uncle Harry!" Elodie called, spying him out of the corner of her eye. She beckoned him over from her perch on Severus' knee and, never one to ignore the women in his life, he obeyed and moved over to join them. "Uncle Harry, do you think I'll be sorted into Slytherin?" she asked.

"All signs seem to point that way," Harry replied in the same serious tone his goddaughter was using.

"Uncle Severus _and_ Uncle Draco were both in Slytherin," the little girl said, as if that settled the matter.

"Well," said Harry, kneeling down beside Severus so he could meet Elodie's eyes better, "Uncle Severus and Uncle Draco are two of the bravest, cleverest men I know. As role models go, you could do a lot worse."

Elodie nodded sagely, as if she had suspected as much herself. "I know Mum and Dad were both in Gryffindor…and you and Uncle Ron…and – "

"And every other Weasley in existence," Severus finished for her.

"Now that's not true," came George's voice and he appeared next to Hermione, slinging an arm around his wife's shoulders and grinning down at his daughter. "Your great-great-great grandmother was a Slytherin."

"Was she really?" Elodie asked, her eyes shining.

George nodded. "She was indeed, and what's more, she was responsible for discovering the Riddikulus spell."

Elodie's eyes widened and she turned her head to face Severus again. "Did you hear that Uncle Severus? That settles it, I'm definitely going to be in Slytherin."

Severus dropped a kiss to his goddaughter's head and Harry's heart swelled at the sight. He rose shakily to his feet and excused himself, pretending he needed the loo. He walked into George and Hermione's little home, which was as similar as The Burrow to be an almost painful reminder of his youth. It was cosy and homely but without the general feeling of chaos that The Burrow had, which was remarkable in itself, as George had always been responsible for at least half of the chaos there.

Harry eased himself down onto the sofa, feeling suddenly very heavy-limbed. Pain was spreading through his hips and lower back and there was a dull ache forming behind his eyes. It had taken longer to hit him than he had been expecting though, he supposed his physical rehab was having more benefit than he had given it credit for. It still didn't make it any bloody easier though, having Severus' hands on him every night. It didn't matter that he had been fully-clothed each time, it was still as close as he'd been to the man in nearly seven years and it was driving him crazy.

He heard the patio doors open and he looked up to see Draco stepping inside, his movements as gentle and graceful as they'd ever been. He gave Harry a soft smile, the action stretching the scar along the left side of his face. _Trust Draco to end up with a scar that makes him look more dashing,_ Harry thought wryly. He offered his own smile and Draco joined him on the sofa, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

"How are you Drake?" he asked, leaning his head back against the sofa to look at the man properly.

"Well enough," Draco answered. Everything about him was so gentle, so calm that Harry felt immediately soothed. He wondered how Draco could be so different from the arrogant sod who could set his teeth on edge just by glancing in his direction.

"Ron told me that you and Neville have gone into business together," Harry said, thankful his surprise had subsided since Ron had told him that particular bit of information.

Draco smiled. "Yes, it's going rather well. I had thought I had a talent for Herbology until I saw Neville work, the man's a genius. Severus won't accept any other supplier for his ingredients."

 _Ah_ , thought Harry, _so that's how they came to be on first-name terms._

"Are you enjoying it?" Harry asked.

"More than I expected to," Draco replied. "Neville has a keen mind and, as I say, his talent is unparalleled. We've got more orders than we can comfortably handle, we'll have to take on some staff soon."

"I'm pleased for you Drake."

The blond tilted his head and fixed his grey eyes on Harry. "And you?" he asked softly. "Should I ask how you are or will I get hexed for my trouble?"

Harry sighed and said, "I'd answer you if I knew how to."

"You're still in pain?"

Harry nodded. "This time of day it starts hitting in. Severus wants to trial a potion later though, so keep your fingers crossed for me."

"Ron's been working very hard on it, he'll find a cure," Draco replied, eyeing Harry carefully. When it seemed no response was forthcoming, Draco sat a little straighter on the sofa and turned his body to face Harry fully. "Why don't you go and speak to him, make it up?"

Harry pursed his lips, then, realising it probably made him look like Molly Weasley, quickly reversed the action and settled for a scowl instead. "Why doesn't he come and make it up?" he asked petulantly.

Draco chuckled and said, "You two are as bad as each other." Harry rolled his eyes, knowing full well that he was behaving more immaturely than his four-year-old goddaughter. "He hates arguing with you Harry," Draco said gently.

"It's not exactly a barrel of laughs for me either," Harry said defensively.

"He misses you," Draco replied, clearly not put off by Harry's tone. "He wants you to be around the corner, able to go for a pint with him after work or to have a quick fire-call with over lunch to complain about how terrible life is being in love with a Malfoy," he finished with a wry smile.

"He can talk to me any time he likes, just because I'm in a different country doesn't mean – "

"That's exactly what it means Harry," Draco said in the firmest yet gentlest tone of voice Harry had ever heard anyone use. "It isn't just that you're not here physically, you've taken yourself away from us in every way possible. Ron doesn't feel that he can just call you up at a moment's notice, that you'll want to apparate back on a Friday evening to come for dinner, or pop back on a sunny weekend to play with Elodie. You've created this barrier and none of us really knows what to do."

Harry glared down at his hands, wishing Draco would just rant and rave at him like everyone else so that he could feel justly vindicated in telling him to sod off. Instead he had to be so bloody reasonable, so mild and temperate in his censure that Harry knew he had no option but to sit there and take it.

"If you hadn't been cursed," Draco continued, "would you have come back?"

Harry frowned, still looking fixedly down at his lap. "I…I would have been here for Elodie's party," he said eventually.

Draco nodded. "There and back in the same day as usual?" The blond sighed and Harry felt a hand come to rest on his shoulder. "People here love you Harry, and we struggle to understand what we've all done so wrong that you want to take yourself away from us."

"No one's done anything wrong," Harry said quietly. "I…I had to leave when I…after…after Voldemort fell. I needed to get away, to put some distance between me and…everything else. I don't know…it just got harder and harder to come back."

The hand on his shoulder slid up to his neck in such a familiar and affectionate gesture that it made Harry's raw, wounded heart feel soothed. He turned to face Draco, his eyes embarrassingly watery, and the man offered him a sad smile.

"Were you waiting for something to bring you back?" he asked gently.

"I…" his breath caught in his throat, a deeply embarrassing sob trying to make its way out instead.

"Oh Harry," Draco said, scooting along the sofa and pulling Harry into a surprisingly strong hug. The grace and elegance of Draco's movements hid the fact that the man possessed a good deal of strength, and that he could use it when he had a mind to.

Harry let himself be held. It had been so long since he'd had this kind of physical contact and it felt good. It was full of warmth and comfort and was so purely platonic that it made Harry swell under the unbridled affection of it. He rested his head against Draco's chest and Draco ran his hand up and down Harry's arm soothingly. He'd forgotten just how much regard he had come to feel for the man over the years and how close they had once been.

He hadn't been lying to Elodie when he had described Draco as brave and clever, but he should have added how kind and insightful the man was. He had changed so much seen he had been a teenager, and he was one of the best men that Harry had ever known. Ron was a lucky sod.

"You need to get this buggering curse out of your system, then all the rest can be dealt with. How can you expect to make sense of anything when your mind is so clouded with pain?"

"What was my excuse before the curse?" Harry asked, knowing that it was a question he should have asked himself a long time ago.

"Cut yourself some slack Harry. What you went through when Voldemort fell…I can only imagine. But you know…others suffered losses too, you might have been able to have found some comfort from people who were grieving if you had stayed. You didn't have to cope alone."

Harry lifted his head from Draco's chest and disentangled himself slightly from the man. "I did everything alone Drake."

"Maybe that's the problem. You're going to have to learn to let people in."

"I let people in," Harry argued.

"You used to," Draco countered. "But somewhere around the time that you lost Sirius you closed yourself off, shut down and started pushing people away. It's time to let us all back in. Or maybe, more specifically, it's time you let _him_ back in again."

"Ron?" Harry asked with a frown. Draco gave him a look that was obviously meant to let him know that he had it wrong. "Oh," he said softly. "Who's to say he'd want me to let him in again?"

"Harry, sometimes I wonder about you."

 _~*~*~ 7 Years Ago ~*~*~_

"Armarria Sute!" Harry cried, flinging up his shield as a huge burst of flames erupted towards him. The shield blocked them, but the force of Severus' hex was a lot to withstand and a flare of pain shot down Harry's wand arm. The flames disappeared and Harry fell to his knees, clutching his arm with a hiss.

Severus was at his side in seconds, kneeling next to him, a hand on his back and a look of concern on his face that almost made Harry forget the pain that seemed to be setting his nerves on fire.

"Are you ok?" the man asked, his hand rubbing circles on Harry's back in what Harry was certain was an unconscious action.

"Just a slight kick-back from the shield. It'll wear off in a bit," Harry replied, rubbing his arm forcefully.

"I think perhaps that's enough for today," Severus said, leaning one elbow on his knee and looking at Harry closely.

"No, no I can go again. I just need to get my breath back."

"No," said Severus firmly. "We've been at this for hours, time to call it a day."

Harry went to argue again, but the look on Severus' face told him that it would be futile. He sighed and flexed his fingers, saying, "Sorry, I know I'm not picking this up quickly enough."

Severus frowned and Harry almost dropped dead with shock when the hand on his back moved up to rest at the base of his neck, cool, long fingers settling against his too-warm skin. He looked up to meet the man's eyes and couldn't quite fathom what he saw there, all he knew was that he would quite like to keep looking for as long as he was allowed.

"I'll not have you working yourself to death," Severus said, his voice unusually soft. "This is difficult, advanced magic and it will take you longer than a week to pick it up. You've done surprisingly well so far."

Harry's eyes widened and he blinked for a moment, stunned at both Severus' words and the surprisingly soothing tone he used to say them. "You're different," he said before he could stop himself.

Severus looked at him questioningly and Harry took the opportunity to lean into the man's touch further. "What do you mean?" Severus asked.

"Since we've been here, since you were discovered as a spy, you're…you're different," Harry said, searching for another word to use, but deciding that 'different' was as good as he could come up with. "You would never have treated me like this before. You would have called me an idiot and worked me until I collapsed."

"Was I such a monster?" Severus asked gently but as though he rather suspected what the answer would be.

"Yes," Harry replied honestly. "But now…it's like I don't know you…and it makes me think – I probably never did, did I?"

"I'm not a wholly new person all of a sudden," Severus replied, and Harry was acutely aware that those long fingers were moving back and forth across his skin. "I'm still bitter and misanthropic, and given half the chance I will cut someone down to size with one sentence," he stopped as Harry sniggered, "but I'm freer than I've been in over 20 years and perhaps now…I can discover who I am without looking over my shoulder all the time."

Harry smiled and very firmly squashed down the urge to lean forward and kiss the man. "Do you mind if I try and discover who you are too?"

"Why would you want to?" asked Severus, an enigmatic little smile playing about his lips. Bloody hell but Harry wanted to kiss him.

"Morbid curiosity," Harry said, wondering if he managed to nail his smirk as well as Severus did.

"It would have to be," Severus replied. "Come on, enough training for now. We'll start afresh in the morning."

He stood up, Harry immediately missing the loss of those beautiful fingers on his neck, then held his hand out, pulling Harry gently to his feet. They walked closely side-by-side back to the cottage and Severus ordered Harry into a bath as soon as they were inside to ensure his muscles didn't seize up from their exertion.

As he lay beneath the bubbles, letting the hot water soothe him, Harry pondered on the man he could hear moving about downstairs. He _was_ different and things felt different here in this surreal little world where the two of them lived together and made potions in the morning and trained together in the afternoons.

It was surprising what you learnt about a person, Harry thought, just by living with them. Those little things that might take years to find out otherwise all naturally became apparent simply by existing side-by-side. Severus spent his life in bare feet. That had been surprising to Harry initially when he had glanced down as they had stood at the kitchen sink and he had noticed the long, bare appendages sticking out from the usual black trousers.

Harry had never given much thought to the man's feet in the past, indeed he had never given much thought to feet in general, but there was something about seeing Severus sitting on the sofa, one long leg crossed over the other, his pale feet flexing as he read that fascinated Harry. It made him seem more human somehow too, and confirmed to Harry that more of the man existed beneath the layers of endless black fabric he swathed himself in.

He had found other, seemingly trivial, things out about his bunk-mate too. He took his tea sweet and his coffee bitter, although both he insisted had to be served with milk. Harry had been amused by that fact and had told Severus that he had always assumed he would have had his coffee black.

" _Why_?" had been the bemused response _._

Harry had shrugged. " _Dunno, just made sense to me. You seemed like a black coffee and cigarettes kind of person, listening to obscure bands on vinyl and reading Vonnegut._ "

Severus had fixed him with a particularly withering look and replied, " _I am not a teenage aesthetic Mr Potter_ ," to which Harry had dissolved into a fit of giggles that took an embarrassingly long time to recover from.

There were other, little things too that Harry guarded jealously, feeling as though he might be the only one who was acquainted with Severus who had had the opportunity to learn them. He had very fixed ideas about meal times, and apart from their first day, he insisted that they eat lunch at one and dinner at six, and these times were not to be deviated from. He had coffee at 11 o'clock and tea at three, the latter of which he took his time to enjoy.

He insisted that tea should be made in a pot, and so he did, waiting exactly five minutes for it to brew before he took the tea tray into the sitting room, pouring himself and Harry a cup, then adding a generous splash of milk to his and a spoonful of sugar before settling back into the comfy sofa and reading through one of his many potions journals.

Harry loved to watch him as he read, although he tried to do it as surreptitiously as possible. The man would cross one leg over the other and then eventually his (deliciously bare) foot would start drawing languid circles in the air. He often bit his lip as he read and would chew on it slightly as he became more immersed in the material, sending a hot flush to Harry's cheeks that he had to dip his head to hide.

Harry sighed and decided that if he stayed in the bath any longer he would be shrivelled beyond recognition. He hauled himself out, drained the tub and dried himself off quickly, throwing on his pyjamas and running a hand through his hair a couple of times.

He padded softly down to the sitting room and found Severus just as he had been imagining him, lounging on the sofa thumbing through a battered old book. A quick glance confirmed that he was indeed in bare feet, as Harry had suspected he would be, and he bit the inside of his lip to keep his smile at bay.

"I was beginning to think you'd drowned," said Severus, looking up as Harry settled himself into the squishy armchair by the fire.

"Oh well thanks for coming to check on me," said Harry with a grin.

Severus rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the book in his lap, gesturing his hand toward the coffee table and saying, "I've opened a rather nice bottle of red I found in the cellar. Help yourself if you like."

"Mm, don't mind if I do," Harry replied, fetching a glass from the cabinet in the corner and picking up the bottle from the table, giving the label a cursory glance before pouring himself a healthy-sized glass.

He took a sip, letting it settle on his tongue for a minute to appreciate the flavour. "You know," he said, taking a seat on the sofa next to Severus rather than returning to the armchair, "I used to prefer white wine to red, but recently I think I'm developing a taste for it."

"Well at least your palate's maturing if nothing else," Severus said, looking across at him with a raised eyebrow and a glint in his eye.

"I do so appreciate your lifelong campaign to make sure there's no chance of all the Boy Who Lived nonsense going to my head and turning me into an egotistical, conceited prat."

It was very nearly a smile that made its way onto Severus' face as the man said, "I'm most gratified that you finally appreciate my endeavours after all these years."

Harry grinned then quickly winced as a jolt of pain shot through his arm and hand. "Bloody hell," he growled, setting his wine down before he spilt it and flexing his fingers to try to ease the building feeling of cramp.

"Still giving you pain?" Severus asked, settling his own glass down and looking at Harry as though he were a potions ingredient.

Harry nodded and eased his wrist back and forth. "It keeps aching and then every now and again a spasm goes through it and it feels like my nerves are on fire."

"Wait here a moment," Severus said, getting up and leaving the room.

Harry continued to rotate his hand, trying to stave off the uncomfortable feeling of pins and needles that were shooting up and down his arm. His hand was shaking slightly and he could feel the spread of residual magic irritating his skin.

Severus re-entered the room, holding a vial of something yellowish and seated himself opposite Harry once again.

"Give me your hand," he instructed, and Harry did as he was told. Severus took hold of it and unstopped the vial, pouring a generous amount of the oily, unusually pleasant-smelling liquid into his palm. Harry was about to ask what was supposed to happen when Severus began to rub the mixture in, spreading it all over his hand and up his arm nearly to the elbow.

The man began to massage his hand with his thumbs, applying gentle but firm pressure. Harry resisted the urge to let out a moan as those dexterous hands worked their magic on his pliable flesh, soothing away the tension and horrible, dull ache. It felt wonderful and a little voice somewhere in the back of Harry's mind wondered if he could get Severus to do this every night; all he would have to do was pretend that his hand continued to hurt him.

The thumbs worked their way to his wrist then up his arm and Harry's breath hitched slightly as a jolt of something very different to pain ran through his body.

"Did that hurt?" Severus asked, looking up at him.

Harry shook his head. "No," he said, his voice sounding oddly thick to his own ears. "No…just tickled slightly," he lied.

Severus smirked slightly and said, "Ticklish are we?"

"Don't you dare you rotten Slytherin," Harry said, eyeing the man carefully.

Severus quirked an eyebrow and said, "Information I can file away for another time."

Another time? Bloody hell, thought Harry. Was Severus planning on ambushing him at some point in the future? Launching an attack on him, pinning him down and…no. No that train of thought was not one he should be boarding whilst sitting merely inches away from the man. A straining erection was not an easy thing to conceal in thin cotton pyjamas.

"It um…feels good," he said softly as Severus' deft hands continued to work his sore muscles, rubbing them into submission.

"Valerian root," Severus replied, "tempered with a couple of ingredients of my own addition."

"Wouldn't feel half so good without those hands of yours," Harry said before he could stop himself. Severus' eyes met his and Harry felt himself blush, Severus' hands feeling warm against his skin. "I just mean…" he stuttered, "you have strong hands," he clarified, feeling like a right prat.

"These things are best applied directly to the skin," Severus answered softly.

"How often?" Harry asked.

"As often as you need it."

"I think I'll need it quite a lot," Harry said, hoping to Merlin that he wasn't making a prize fool of himself.

"I'll be happy to oblige," Severus replied and Harry could have flung himself at the man there and then.

"Thanks," he said, doing his best to keep his voice level. He was going to have to get up, he was going to have leave the room before he leant forward and kissed Severus and bollocksed everything up. The man would be horrified, he was sure of it. What man in his right mind, a sophisticated, older man at that, would want a 19-year-old jumble of hormones launching himself at them?

The massaging hands stopped and Harry had to admit that his hand and arm felt much better. It didn't mean that the pain wouldn't be back tomorrow though, and Severus had said he'd be happy to oblige, should Harry need further help. Harry was fairly certain he was going to need those beautiful hands and their healing properties as often as he could get them.

Harry flexed his fingers and moved his arm around slightly. "Is there nothing you can't do?" he asked Severus with a smile.

The man placed the stopper back in the vial and looked at him with something very like a smile. "Tap dancing," he said, "never did pick it up."

Harry burst out laughing and shook his head in surprise. "Now _that_ I would pay good money to see," he said in between bouts of laughter. "As would the whole student body of Hogwarts I shouldn't wonder."

"Such a pity none will ever to get to witness it then."

"Were you always this funny?" Harry asked softly.

"No," said Severus with a thoughtful look, "I never had the luxury of humour before."

"I like this version of you," Harry said, running his hand over Severus' then immediately getting up from the sofa before his treacherous body could lead him into making any further overtures. "I think I might have an early night," he said, "those shield charms have done me in. Goodnight sir."

He headed for the door and was about to make his escape when he heard the man's deep voice saying,

"Harry?"

He was so surprised at hearing his name from Severus that he couldn't help but turn around and blink questioningly at the man.

"I haven't been your teacher for 18 months and you're no longer a child, would you consider using my name rather than addressing me as sir?"

Harry's lip twitched and he tried to stop himself from smiling. Severus had just voiced the fact that he no longer viewed him a child, the last thing he wanted to do was disabuse him of that notion. "That doesn't seem like an unreasonable request," he replied. "Goodnight Severus."

"Goodnight Harry."

* * *

"How you can be such a good cook and yet so hopeless when it comes to Potions is beyond me."

"I'm taking the compliment in that sentence and ignoring the rest."

"Yes, well you always were good at selective listening."

Harry snorted and ran a damp rag over the mess on the work surface. His attempt at making a batch of Skele-Gro unaided had not been successful and Severus was attempting to salvage what was left of the bubbling mixture in the cauldron while Harry sheepishly tidied the rest away.

"What was your mistake?" Severus asked, fixing him with a stern look.

"Asking to try and learn this stuff with you in the first place," Harry shot back.

"Idiot," Severus muttered in a manner that Harry could almost have interpreted as fond. Almost. "Come here," he said, stepping back from the cauldron and allowing Harry to stand in his place. "First of all, the puffer-fish should have been diced evenly, not massacred in the way you did with your knife. Secondly, your stirring technique should have been far more measured."

"How on earth does stirring affect these things?"

"Magical properties, Harry."

Harry suppressed the shiver that hearing his name on the man's lips invoked. It had been a couple of days since they'd come to be on first name terms and Harry was beginning to suspect that Severus was using his name as often as he could. It was a silly notion, he thought, but it did seem as though the man was addressing him far more often than necessary.

"Potions is a magical discipline, or else muggles would be able to make them. Every time you make a potion, you use your own magic and so a stirring rod becomes your wand. In the same way that the movement of a wand affects spell, so stirring affects the outcome of the potion."

"Oh I see…that's…actually kind of fascinating," Harry said, looking over his shoulder to grin at Severus. The man quirked an eyebrow in response.

"Now, this mixture requires temperate, measured stirring to counter-act the unpredictable properties of the puffer-fish. Here, like this."

He moved forward and closed his hand over Harry's, guiding the stirring rod around the cauldron in wide, even circles. Harry tried to keep his breathing normal, but it was not an easy feat. Severus had moved forward so that his chest was pressed against Harry's back and, whether the man realised it or not, his free hand was resting on Harry's hip. It was as close to him as Harry had ever been and it was wonderful, terrifyingly, embarrassingly wonderful.

He could feel the press of the strong body behind him, could inhale the smell of the soap Severus used, mingled together with the potions ingredients they'd been using all morning. He felt safe encircled in the man's arms and he could feel soft, warm puffs of his breath at the base of his neck, sending goose-bumps erupting all over his skin. He arched himself back slightly, hoping Severus wouldn't realise what he was trying to do, and pressed himself closer against the man's chest, imagining how it would feel if the damned awful nuisance of clothes weren't in their way.

Oh that was surely a dangerous thought to entertain, but really, how on earth could he stop his mind from conjuring up such delicious images when –

"Ow!" he cried, an unexpected jolt of pain shooting through his hand.

"What's wrong?" Severus asked, releasing his hand and moving back slightly.

"My hand, it's cramping again," he replied, turning around to face Severus.

"So much for the famed Potter healing abilities," Severus said with a smirk. He reached up to the shelf above Harry's head and retrieved the familiar vial of the valerian root mixture. He uncorked it and poured it into Harry's palm before rubbing it in, his long fingers sliding over Harry's skin, soothing and healing. Harry couldn't help but let a small moan slip from his lips.

Severus looked up and Harry met his eyes, his breath a little jagged as he said, "Sorry…you're just…it just feels so good."

Severus looked at him, holding his hand in his own, and Harry felt that he was being scrutinised, that those black eyes were searching his face for something, but Harry couldn't try and guess what. It was too much; they'd been in such close proximity all morning and Harry's body was still reeling from having Severus pressed up against him. He wanted only one thing and his mind was in no fit state to try and talk him out of it.

He leant forward and pressed his lips against the other man's and his hand was released in time for him to wind his arms around Severus' neck. He had expected to be shoved away the second his lips made contact, but he found a pair of strong arms snaking around his waist, pulling him closer as the kiss was returned. Severus' lips were surprisingly soft beneath his own and after the initial shock of what he was actually doing wore off, he took the initiative to deepen the kiss.

He gasped slightly as his tongue met Severus' but as one of the man's hands travelled up his back to come to rest in his hair, all thoughts of stopping, or of Severus not wanting what was happening, were immediately banished. It was cool in the cellar but Harry felt as though his skin was on fire, and he felt a warm blush spread across his cheeks as he pulled his body up against Severus' and felt undeniable proof that Severus was as affected by the encounter as he was.

The hand at the small of his back was firm and insistent, holding him in a way that left no room for escape, which was just as well, as escaping was the furthest thing from Harry's mind at that moment. He'd imagined what it would be like to kiss Severus, but he was realising now that his fantasies had fallen sadly short. It was sensual where he'd imagined it to be hard and rough, and although he had been the one to initiate it, it was Severus who was taking charge, holding him firmly ensuring that not a hair's breadth existed between them. Fingers were ghosting up underneath his t-shirt and he was about to return the favour, desperate to feel Severus' skin beneath his own fingers, when a noise sounded from above that sounded like someone stumbling through the floo.

They broke apart, their breathing harsh and ragged but the regret that Harry had expected to see in Severus' eyes was lacking. The man was smiling, there was no hint of him believing the kiss to have been a mistake, and Harry felt his own mouth twitch in answering smile of relief.

"I'd better go and see whether our visitor is friend or foe," Severus said, his voice low and soft. He stood back a little, releasing Harry from his hold and said, "You'd better sort the rest of that mess out before it eats through the table."

He swept away and up the cellar stairs and Harry looked over at his aborted attempt at the Skele-Gro with a stupid smile playing about his lips. He grabbed the rag he had been using before and mopped at the mess on the work bench, his lips still tingling and his body still thrumming with tension. Severus had kissed him back, and what was more, it had felt as though the man was not merely humouring him, but had been actively involving himself in the activity.

He heard voices floating down the stairs from the house above and as he strained his ears to listen, he was sure he could hear Ron's voice. He frowned, wondering what his friend was doing there and if perhaps there was something wrong. He sorted the rest of the mess then moved to the stairs, moving quietly up each step and coming to stop at the threshold.

Sure enough, it was Ron, and he looked a complete mess. His hair was dishevelled and looked as though it hadn't been washed in days, his face was pale and there were heavy dark circles under his eyes.

"I'm just so worried, Severus," he said, and his voice sounded harsh and raw. "It's been days and I – "

"You can't think like that," Severus replied, and Harry was surprised to hear how gentle he sounded. "He knows what he's doing, Ron."

"Does he?" Ron said, his voice taking on a slightly hysterical edge. "He's only been doing this for a few weeks and he's up against all those bastards who'll be watching his every move, even his own father will be – "

"Ron, Ron calm yourself down," Severus said, and Harry watched in wonder as the man moved forward and wrapped Ron up in a firm hug. "I know you're worried, so am I, but torturing yourself like this isn't going to help."

Ron clung on tightly to Severus, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the man's robes, his chin resting on the man's shoulder as he clenched his jaw firmly. "I saw what they did to you Severus," he whispered. "I saw how you would come back from meetings, I know what they did for fun…I've been watching them for months. He's not as strong as you, he's not…"

Severus pulled back and held Ron by the shoulders, looking him squarely in the eyes. "He is every bit as strong and he has even more reason to fight than I did. He can do this, you know he can."

Ron nodded, but Harry thought that he didn't look particularly convinced. "I thought I could stop worrying about bloody Slytherins when you were kicked out by those arseholes, but now I have to worry tenfold."

Severus shook his head with a slight smile and said, "You needn't have worried about me."

"Don't be stupid," Ron said firmly. "I care about you, of course I worried."

Severus looked as baffled by the declaration as Harry was. He had known that Ron had begun to see Severus in a different light after they had started working together, but he hadn't realised quite how close they had become, or that Ron had developed genuine feelings for the man. He wondered just how far those feelings went.

Harry moved forward, pretending that he had only just come up the stairs, and said, "Ron. What are you doing here?"

His friend turned around and was obviously trying to pull himself together as he said, "Oh, hi Harry. I…I was asked to come and check up on you, make sure you haven't killed each other."

Harry wasn't sure if it was true or not, but he was glad to see his friend and he smiled as he said, "No, no we're both in one piece."

"I can see that. Looks like everyone was worried for no reason," said Ron, shooting Severus a look that the man met with a glare.

"Do you want to stay for something to eat?" Harry asked, and Ron smiled, saying,

"That would be great, I could do with some company."

Ron stayed for the rest of the evening, and Harry was glad to spend some time with his friend. He was obviously troubled and had been preoccupied and a little distant, but otherwise he was as good company as he usually was. What had surprised him was how easy it had been for the three of them to sit around the table together, talking and eating as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Ron had no awkwardness with Severus, that was plain to see, but Severus was unguarded and as friendly as Harry had ever seen him with anyone. The two sniped and swiped at one another, but it was done with good humour, and more than once Ron had elicited a laugh from the older man. There was something between them that Harry couldn't quite fathom, but it soon became apparent that Ron hadn't been lying when he had said he cared about Severus; his feelings were palpable and it intrigued Harry.

"Next time you come, don't you dare turn up without your mother's flapjacks," Severus warned, surprising Harry as he did so.

Ron laughed and said, "I promise, I'll make sure I bring you some. Mum will be thrilled to think she's contributing to your well-being."

"She's been trying to mother me for years, you'd think seven children of her own would be enough for her," Severus groused.

"There will never be enough people in the world for her to mother."

Severus rolled his eyes and said, "Come on, I'll see you out."

"I'll try and come by soon," Ron said, wrapping Harry up in a hug. "Everyone's eager to hear how you two are getting on."

"I'll bet," said Harry, doing his best not to blush. They'd been getting on just fine up until Ron's little interruption.

Severus led Ron back to the sitting room and to the fireplace, and although Harry was supposed to be dealing with the clean-up, he couldn't help but walk softly over to the kitchen door and strain his ears to hear the conversation coming from the room across the hall.

"Try not worry," came Severus' voice, "I know it doesn't feel like it, but he knows what he's doing."

"I'm to be his liaison contact," Ron replied softly. "I don't know if Dumbledore knew when he assigned me but…"

"You can't let how you feel get in the way," came Severus' firm warning.

"I know." Ron's voice was quiet, and there was a pause before Harry heard him say, "And what about your feelings?"

"We don't need to talk about my feelings."

"Really?" said Ron and Harry could hear the slightly teasing tone in his friend's voice. "Being here, in this situation…I've been worried about you."

Harry frowned. What did Ron have to be worried about? He knew people were probably taking bets as to how long it would take he and Severus to hex one another, but it didn't mean that it was enough to constitute a reason to worry.

"Don't be such an idiot," Severus snapped. "I'm a grown man. I can survive some time spent in a rather charming cottage with…somewhat tolerable company."

Harry's eyebrows rose and he was sure that Ron's would have risen to his hairline also. What followed next was a small chuckle that Harry could tell was from Ron, then he said, "Tolerable company indeed. Severus…tread carefully, won't you?" Harry was surprised to hear the amount of affection in his friend's voice as he counselled the older man, although what he was being warned against, Harry had no idea.

"I would if I thought I were in any danger, but I believe I shall endure," Severus said, his tone softer.

Harry heard the rustle of clothing and guessed that Ron had pulled the man into one of his infamous bear-hugs. Merlin how things had changed; he wondered if Ron was as surprised by the change in his relationship with the former Potions Master as he was.

A muffled few words and a soft, whooshing sound moments later told Harry that Ron had left, that it was now just the two of them alone again. He moved silently and swiftly back to the sink, pretending that he had been there all along, and busied himself with piling the dishes in. He felt Severus' presence and he turned to see the man standing in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded.

"You have yet to ask," the man said, his voice low and soft.

"Ask what?" Harry said with a frown.

"To whom Ron was referring when you were listening at the top of the cellar stairs."

Harry blushed a little but squared his shoulders; Ron was his friend after all. "It hardly takes a genius," he said with a shrug. "Another Slytherin to worry about and one that's in danger from his father, has to be Malfoy."

Severus looked at him thoughtfully, then said, "Aren't you going to ask me about it?"

Harry paused a moment before replying, "If Ron has seen fit to confide something in you that he doesn't want to tell me, then I won't pry. I'll admit to being curious, but I know more than others about the need for privacy."

He turned his attention back to the sink and regarded the dirty dishes for a moment before deciding to forgo the nightly ritual of washing up and casting his wand over the lot of it, cleaning everything in a matter of seconds.

"I would tell you…" Severus began and Harry smiled as he looked over his shoulder at the man.

"I would never ask you to betray a confidence, no more than I would expect you to ask so of me."

A softness settled over Severus' face and his lip quirked ever so slightly in the tiniest hint of a smile. "Gryffindor," he said, his voice still low and soft and without any of the usual rancour Harry had come to expect in the past when that particular word was aimed at him.

Harry smiled and ran a hand through his hair. "You've called me worse things," he murmured. He flicked his wand at the sink and the dishes and cooking equipment removed themselves to fly back into their assigned cupboards.

"I suppose it's time to call it a night," he said, heading towards the door, stopping in front of Severus, who was barring his way somewhat.

Black eyes bored into his for moment and Harry could feel the blush creep up from his neck. _Oh_ , he thought, _here we go, let's have the speech about how what happened in the cellar was all a big, fat mistake_.

"Harry," the man said, and Harry felt a shiver snake its way down his spine at hearing his name from Severus' lips. "I don't regret what happened between us this evening. If you feel it was a mistake, then I'll abide by you, but for my part, I can't say I'm sorry for it."

Harry's breath caught in his throat and all thoughts of moving past Severus vanished. He felt that with the thoughts rolling around in his head, his senses should have been cloudy, muddled somehow, but he felt a clarity, a definite certainty that bolstered him. He stepped forward and placed his hands on Severus' chest then slowly slid them up so they were resting on the man's shoulders. "I regret nothing," he whispered before closing the space between them and meeting Severus' lips with his own.

He was pulled into Severus' strong hold and decided that this time, it would take nothing short of an interruption from Voldemort to stop him. Severus' body was hard and firm pressed up against him and Harry felt the muscles tighten in anticipation beneath his fingers. He wanted more this time, the months he had spent imagining this moment were not going to be in vain; he wanted to feel more than just a promise of that body beneath the clothing.

His hands slid down Severus' chest and began undoing the buttons of the man's shirt, and he was immensely grateful that Severus had forgone his usual tightly-buttoned robes. His hand ghosted over bare skin and he felt Severus' breath hitch slightly as he slid his hand very deliberately inside the man's shirt. The skin was surprisingly soft, and he mapped it out with his fingertips, then broke away to look up at Severus through his eyelashes.

Severus held him close, one hand drawing lazy circles at the base of his spine. "I think it best to take this slow," he said softly, and Harry felt a mingled sense of disappointment and relief.

"You don't want to go any further?" he asked, trying not to sound petulant.

"Oh Harry, nothing could be further from the truth," said Severus, his voice low and sending a thrill up Harry's spine. "But things are…unusual in this strange environment we've been plunged into and I don't want you to do anything you might come to regret."

"I already told you," Harry said, running a hand up and down Severus' slightly exposed chest, "I don't regret what's happened."

"And I'm not trying to talk you out of anything, believe me, but we have plenty of time, we don't need to rush anything, and I think we'd be doing ourselves a disservice if we did."

Harry nodded reluctantly, seeing the sense in the man's words and not wanting him to think that he was a rabid, hormone-filled teenager in a rush to lose his virginity to the first viable option. He supposed, if he was pushed, that he would admit he probably wasn't ready to do much more than kiss, and he had to respect Severus' self-restraint in giving him time to consider it.

"You're right," he said softly. "There's no rush, and I really don't want to mess up…whatever the hell this is," he said with a small laugh. "I just want you to know though that I'm not going to wake up tomorrow and wish that I'd never kissed you, not after wanting to do it for so long," he admitted, feeling his cheeks heat.

"Neither will I," Severus said gently, "for similar reasons."

Harry's eyes widened, but he wasn't brave enough to ask exactly what Severus meant by that comment, perhaps he would a little further down the line. "I'll say goodnight then," he said, leaning upwards and pressing a light kiss to Severus' lips, then reluctantly disentangling himself from the man's wonderfully strong hold and heading off towards the stairs.

"Goodnight Harry."

* * *

 **AN:** Well that's your lot for now, please review and let me know your thoughts, Cithara xx


	3. Chapter 3

Author's notes at the end.

* * *

Part 3

 _~*~Present Day~*~_

Harry sat outside the cottage, wrapped in his dressing gown and holding a cup of coffee closely to his chest. He'd been out there since the sun had come up, and although it was cold, the weather was beautiful.

He had been unable to sleep; the pain in his lower back and hips had been driving him insane and he hadn't been able to lie in bed any longer and hope for sleep to pull him under. He had little enough hope at the best of times, but now that Severus and Ron had him off all painkillers and sleeping aids, it was a near impossible task.

He sighed and sipped at his coffee, then closed his eyes and leant back in his chair, breathing in the smell of the sea and listening to the waves crash on the beach below. He had done this so many times, had sat and let the environment wash over him in a place that had brought him more peace than anywhere, even Hogwarts, had ever done. Now though, now everything that had gone before seemed to stand in the way of achieving that sense of peace and he hated it.

Was he so very different from the boy that had crossed the threshold all those years ago? Was it impossible to go back to the way things had been before? Somewhere in the back of his head a snide little voice was telling him that it was always impossible to go back, that the past was the past for a reason, but, contrary to almost everything that he had learnt in the ensuing years, his heart still held just the smallest bit of hope.

"Couldn't sleep?" came Severus' voice, and he tilted his head upwards slightly to look at him.

"No," he said with a sigh as Severus came to sit opposite him.

"Pain?" Severus asked, fixing him with those dark eyes.

Harry nodded and placed his mug on the table, saying, "I don't know what to do. I can't live like this, it's hell."

Severus looked pained by Harry's admission and a deep frown settled between his brows as he said, "We will find an answer, Harry, I promise you. A little more research, a little more therapy – "

"I know you're doing everything you can, and I appreciate it, I really do, I just…I don't know how much more I can take." He rubbed at his eyes tiredly and massaged the bridge of his nose before taking a deep breath and saying, "It's debilitating and it's draining. I wake up exhausted and everything feels like a struggle. Some days it's all I can do just to put one foot in front of the other and I hate feeling like this, it's hideous."

Severus reached across and took hold of his hand, and the gesture was so familiar that it made Harry's chest constrict. "I wish I could take this from you, I would do anything to take away your suffering," he said, his voice so soft that it flooded Harry with all the memories he had tried so hard to squash down.

"I know," he said quietly, giving Severus' hand a squeeze, holding the man's gaze.

"Ron will be here soon. Have you two made up yet?"

Harry shrugged, releasing Severus' hand and leaning back in his chair. "I don't think so. We didn't really speak to each other at Elodie's party."

"I've never known Ron to hold a grudge," Severus said, mirroring him and leaning back in his own chair, folding his arms across his chest.

Harry hated how easily Severus spoke of Ron, and he couldn't honestly say that he knew where his jealousy was placed. Was he jealous of Ron for the relationship he had with the man he had such complicated feelings for, or was he jealous of Severus for the relationship he had with the man who had once been his best friend? It made his head hurt to think of it.

"Maybe not, but he can be a stubborn prat when he wants to be," Harry groused, and Severus raised an eyebrow at him.

"That's rather the pot calling the kettle black, don't you think?"

"I'm not stubborn!" Harry protested, and the eyebrow arched even higher.

"Harry, that's like Dumbledore saying that he doesn't enjoy a good meddle."

Harry pulled a face at the man opposite, receiving a smirk for his troubles. "Do you want some breakfast?" Severus asked, getting up from the table. "It might be a good idea to fill your stomach with something besides endless quantities of coffee."

"I'm not – " Harry began to say, but stopped himself at the stern look being sent his way. "Fine, fine," he said with a sigh, "I'll have some breakfast. You'd make someone a lovely mother, you know."

The smack that was aimed to the back of his head seconds later was certainly no accident.

* * *

Harry was indeed persuaded to eat some breakfast, although every mouthful tasted like ash to him, and then Severus insisted on him doing his exercises. Harry didn't know why he was bothering, it seemed to him that all the stretches were designed to do was piss him off and make him ache even more, despite Ron's protests to the contrary.

He was sitting on the floor in the living room after having completed them, contemplating just how he could kill Ron and Severus and get away with it, when Ron poked his head around the door and said, "Can I come in?"

"Not my house, I can't stop you," Harry said, knowing that he sounded like a ten-year-old, but in no mood to moderate his behaviour.

Ron sighed and moved into the room then slid down onto the floor next to Harry, his back leaning up against the sofa. He paused for a moment then turned his head to look at Harry and said, "There are things that need to be said Harry, and I don't think things are ever going to be ok between us unless they are."

Harry gritted his teeth together and felt the pressure build behind his eyes; he hadn't had enough sleep to be having this conversation.

"You've said your piece," Harry said, continuing to stare straight ahead, refusing to look Ron in the eye, "do you really need to say any more?"

"Harry could you stop behaving like a child for five minutes and realise that there are things that need addressing?"

Harry snorted and said, "The old Ron would have been quite happy to keep his head buried in the sand."

"The old Ron?" Ron echoed. "What does that even mean? I'm the same person I always was Harry; any changes you see in me are the result of you not being around enough to have witnessed them gradually. I'm still your best friend," he finished firmly.

Harry shook his head and said snidely, "Is that a fact?"

Ron sucked the air through his teeth and said, "Fine, you be like that." He rose to his feet and looked down at Harry. "I'll just go and speak to Severus about continuing to try and find the cure to help you, you ungrateful prick."

He was gone before Harry could think up an adequate response, or even an inadequate one. His mind was cloudy and his head was throbbing. The pain in his hips was becoming more and more insistent, and all he could think about was the way that Ron and Severus seemed to talk about each other in terms that always made them sound like a couple.

He knew it was a stupid to think, he had seen Ron and Draco for himself, had seen how in love they were and how devoted they were to one another, but he wasn't in a condition to be thinking rationally, to talk himself out of thinking like a moron.

He hated being at odds with Ron, always had done, it just felt too unnatural for the two of them not to be partners in crime, to be each other's sidekicks, but he couldn't help the growing feelings of resentment that kept festering in his gut. He wanted things to go back to normal, and it was easier to blame Ron for them not being so rather than to face up to the realisation that the fault lay at his door.

"That went well," came a voice from the doorway, and Harry turned his head to see Draco standing there, his arms folded and a gentle smile on his face. He held out his hand and said, "Come on love, let's go and take a little stroll by the sea."

"I don't want to," Harry said petulantly.

Draco laughed and said, "That wasn't a request."

 _Gentle but deadly_ , Harry thought as he was suddenly reminded of how Draco had fought in the final battle, of how he had acquired the scar on his face that stretched when he smiled. Perhaps disobeying him wasn't the wisest of moves. Harry sighed and accepted the hand, allowing himself to be pulled to his feet and guided out of the front door.

Draco was such a soothing influence, there was something about that man that exuded calm, and after a few minutes in his company, Harry felt a little of the hideous tension that he had been carrying simply melt away. They walked down from the cliff-head to the little cove that lay below and meandered over the sand, enjoying the warmth of the sun as they went.

Eventually, Draco stopped walking and stood looking out towards the sea, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. He stood with such grace and elegance, his delicate chin tilted upwards slightly, that Harry felt like a clumsy, uncoordinated oaf next to him. He also couldn't shake the feeling of having been brought before a benevolent but stern headmaster, one who was about to read him the riot act in the worst way possible.

"Harry," he said softly, "this situation causes me a great deal of conflict. I love you, but I love Ron too, and I'm afraid that that love will always win over anything else."

"So you're taking his side?" Harry asked, regretting it immediately when Draco turned his head and raised a remonstrative eyebrow at him and fixed him with those steely grey eyes.

"We're too old for 'taking sides', Harry," he said, turning back to face the sea again, "and we're too old to be engaging in these petty arguments. I understand that you're hurting, and that there are things at play here that go beyond the curse you've been hit with, but other people are hurting too, and whether you like it or not, you're the cause of that."

"Why is everything my fault?" Harry asked, and Draco shook his head while continuing to look ahead.

"Harry, you have to remove yourself from this 'poor me' mentality. You've been through some terrible experiences, no one could deny that, but so have other people. We've all lost someone, we all have the nightmares, the flashbacks. Do you think that I don't relive every second of killing my father?"

The words hit Harry like a fist and he couldn't bear to look at Draco's profile while he processed what the man had just said. His eyes went to the ground and he felt a hot blush of shame creep across his cheeks, and his stomach twisted as he knew that there would be to come.

"There's a part of you that's so bruised, so wounded, that you've shut yourself down to avoid anything that remotely resembles emotion. What was the last relationship you had?" he asked, turning to face Harry, but Harry continued to stare down at the sand beneath his feet.

"I haven't really…I haven't been in a relationship. There hasn't been anyone…"

"There hasn't been anyone that could replace Severus," Draco finished certainly.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but could think of no way to respond to what Draco had said. He couldn't deny it, it was true after all, but neither could he admit it, not out loud, not to another person.

"Harry," Draco said gently, reaching out a hand and gripping Harry's chin, forcing him to look up, "you're in love with the man, you have been for years now. Why do you want to torture yourself and him by pretending otherwise?"

Harry met the unyielding grey eyes, feeling himself shrink from their intensity, wishing he were anywhere but there, fixed to the spot and being scrutinised by a man who seemed to know his thoughts better than he did.

"You're going to have to face this, one way or another. You can't keep running, hoping that if you put enough distance between you that it will go away. You should know better than anyone that you can't escape your feelings."

Harry took a shuddering breath, feeling his eyes prick with tears that he kept refusing to cry, tears that he had silenced for a long time. "I don't know what to do Drake," he whispered.

"That's ok," Draco said with a soft smile. "You don't need to have all the answers, none of us do, but you need to be prepared to face this. You're not alone, Harry, please stop acting as though you are."

"Tell me what to do," Harry implored, desperate for someone to take the pressure off his shoulders, to make it all better for him.

"Well, I think you need to start by talking to Ron. You need your best friend if you're going to start confronting things."

Harry gave a bitter laugh and said, "Won't I have to confront him too?"

"Yes love," said Draco, matching the sardonic smile that Harry was wearing, "I'm afraid you will."

He leant forward and pressed a kiss to Harry's cheek, then pulled him into a strong hug, amazing Harry yet again with just how much strength the man could possess in such a gently elegant body.

They spent the next half an hour taking a gentle walk along the sand before Draco very firmly told Harry that it was time to go back up to the cottage. He climbed the hill reluctantly and Draco led him back inside before he went into the kitchen and Harry heard him say,

"Sev could I have a word with you about your latest order? Neville's produced a hybrid that I think you might be quite interested in."

A moment or two later and Severus and Draco left the kitchen and moved into the living room, Severus raising a knowing eyebrow as they passed Harry in the corridor. Harry stood there, collecting his thoughts and psyching himself up before he finally bit the bullet and moved into the kitchen.

Ron was sitting at the table, Harry's notes spread out in front of him, flicking his pen from finger to finger in that way that always made Harry jealous that he couldn't do the same thing. Ron had tried to teach him once, but the lesson had come to an abrupt end when Harry had nearly stuck the pen up Ron's nose. The memory made him smile in spite of himself.

"Can we talk?" he asked quietly, and Ron looked up, his expression wary.

"I tried to do that an hour ago but you weren't having any of it," he said, clicking the pen and laying it down on the table.

Harry sighed and pulled out the chair opposite Ron, taking a seat and resting his elbows on the table and looking at his friend resolvedly. If he didn't do this, Draco would remove his liver, of that he was certain.

"I can't do this without you Ron," he said tiredly.

"No one bloody asked you to," Ron shot back. "The second you came back, the second you told me you'd been cursed, I was there for you, ready to help and – "

"I don't just mean with the curse," Harry said, his eyes going to the table, unable to meet Ron's piercing blue eyes.

"Why are you such a dick?" Ron said, and Harry couldn't help but laugh at the man's bluntness. Ron would never be one to sugar-coat anything, and he loved him for it.

"Sorry," Harry said, looking up at him, "it's just what I do."

Ron shook his head, looking exasperated and mildly pissed off in equal measure. "We can't keep playing this game," he said, and Harry nodded, wondering just how many tellings-off he could take in one day. When had Ron and Draco become his parents? On reflection, he supposed he could do worse.

"I know," he said, "I don't want to, I just…I don't know what I'm doing."

"That's pretty obvious," said Ron with a snort. He leant back in his chair and a slightly pink tinge crept up his throat; Harry recognised it as a sure sign that Ron was uncomfortable about what he was about to say. "I miss you," he said, crossing his arms defensively. "I miss…I miss the way things used to be between us."

"So do I," Harry insisted, feeling as though Ron didn't really appreciate the fact that things weren't exactly rosy for him either.

"But I didn't leave Harry! I've been right here, if you missed me, if you missed any of us, all you had to do was come home!"

"It's not that easy Ron!"

"Evidently," Ron shot back, the pink tinge spreading to his jaw. "You know what really hurts, Harry? I was with you from the start, before Hermione even. I was there from day one and for you to be able to just write me out of your life fucking hurts."

"I haven't written you out of my life!" Harry protested.

"Really? Well it sure as hell feels that way! I don't know anything about you anymore."

"What are you talking about? Of course you do!"

"No I bloody well don't! Harry, I don't know anything about your job, or about anyone that you've dated. I don't know where you live when you're on assignments, I don't even know what Grimmauld Place looks like these days! And you know what? You know fuck all about my life either! You haven't seen the place Drake and I bought together and you haven't got a clue what's going on with my work. We never talk apart from the brief times that you pop back and that's only usually when you want something."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but it seemed that Ron wasn't finished. He leant his fists on the table and stood up, eying Harry fiercely and saying, "You're a selfish git, Harry. You left us all behind to get on without you and now you want to be the injured party and tell me that this is hard for you too? You're unbelievable."

"It _is_ hard!" Harry shot back. "Do you think I like the way things are?"

"You made them this way! You left without so much as a glance back."

"You can't really believe that it was just that easy for me?" Harry asked, getting to his feet and trying to put himself back on some sort of even keel with Ron.

"It looked pretty easy to the rest of us Harry."

"I had to leave, Ron, I had to get away, to get my head clear, to – "

"To pretend like the rest of us didn't exist? We all went through it too you prick! I lost a brother, Hermione lost her sight, Draco killed his own father! Everyone else had things to deal with, but for some reason your stuff was more important! And what about Severus?"

The man's name was like a slap in the face to Harry, and he blinked in shock for a second before saying, "What about him?"

Ron's eyes became harder than Harry had ever seen them and his nostrils flared angrily before he said in a horribly quiet voice, "Well if that doesn't just sum up your attitude towards him, I don't know what does. You couldn't give a shit could you?"

"How can you ask me that?" Harry said, his voice catching as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

"Well what do you expect me to think? What do you expect _him_ to think? How do you think he feels about the fact that all he gets from you are a couple of letters a year if he's lucky?"

"Well I'm sorry I don't pop around for tea twice a week and have a cosy little life with him the way you do – "

"Are you fucking _jealous_?" Ron shouted, his face flushed and his eyes angry.

Harry didn't say anything, simply stood there and clenched his teeth together as his hands balled into fists at his side. He _was_ jealous, he wasn't entirely sure what of but the feeling was there nonetheless.

"Oh you're priceless Harry, you really are. Never mind how insulting that is to my relationship with Drake, do you have any idea how stupid the idea of him thinking of anyone but you actually is? Do you really not know how he – "

"Ron," came Severus' voice from the doorway and Harry turned to find him standing there with one hand on the doorframe, his face guarded. "That's enough," he said quietly.

Ron's eyes went to the floor and he suddenly looked embarrassed, ashamed of himself almost, and he nodded as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. "Sorry," he said softly, "I shouldn't have…sorry." He looked back up to Severus and something wordless passed between them that only served to make Harry's gut twist painfully.

Ron sighed and stuffed his notes back into satchel, saying, "I'm going to go and work on this stuff from my office."

"Ron – " Harry said, not wanting to leave things the way they were.

"We're done here today," Ron said firmly, "before I say something that I won't be able to take back."

He moved from the room, clapping Severus on the shoulder as he went and stopping to press a quick peck to Draco's lips, telling him he would see him at home. Harry heard a soft pop moments later, indicating that Ron had indeed left. He looked to Draco, who looked as frustrated as he did concerned, and Harry shrugged at him, saying,

"I tried."

"I'm not sure that's true," Draco said softly, "but perhaps that's enough for today. I'll leave you in peace." He too apparated away, and Harry and Severus were left alone in the kitchen, staring at one another and wondering what the hell to say.

Harry decided that he was too much of a coward to confront the issue; he didn't want to hear the same harsh things from Severus as he had done from Ron, and he had nothing to say that would really defend himself. He raked a hand through his hair and said quietly, "I'm going to go for a walk."

"Are you sure that's wise?" Severus said levelly, and Harry wondered how the man managed to maintain his composure even at times like this. "You won't do your hips any favours."

"Rather that than stay here and be victim to my thoughts."

Severus shook his head but stepped aside from the doorway nevertheless, and Harry moved past him and out into the hallway. He grabbed his cloak and headed outside, wanting to put the whole sorry morning as far from his head as he possibly could.

He turned from the cottage and walked inland, into the heavy woodland that lay beyond. He knew the area well, having spent many a lazy afternoon strolling through the countryside, and as he walked, he remembered the many times he had walked side by side with Severus, sometimes talking, sometimes in companionable silence.

That seemed like another world ago. Everything in those early days had been so tentative yet it had felt so natural. He had been nervous and at ease all at once, sneaking glances at Severus, finding ways to touch him, to be touched. They had experienced all the heady feelings that came with embarking on a new relationship and the memories of that time were so bittersweet that Harry's pulse quickened uncomfortably as he recalled them.

Everything seemed so different now. He couldn't imagine walking with Severus now as he had done then, couldn't imagine sliding into his seat at the kitchen table and smiling sleepily across at the man before they began their day, sipping on coffee and swiping good-naturedly about the other's sleeping habits. At the time he perhaps hadn't realised how easy things were between them, but the stark contrast of how things were now brought it into clear effect in his mind.

Severus was right; the walk had done his hips no favours, and by the time he got back to the cottage, he was walking with a pronounced limp and he was in agony. Tears pricked his eyes as he slammed the door open and he felt a hot ball of resentment twist in his chest, furious that he was now so disabled that he couldn't even go for a walk without feeling as though his body was a withered old cadaver.

He wrenched his cloak off and was hanging it on the peg when Severus appeared from the kitchen, concern evident in his face.

"Don't," Harry said, his voice low, "don't say 'I told you so'."

"I had no intention of saying any such thing, not when I know you won't listen."

There was silence for a minute before Severus turned and headed for the stairs that led down to the cellar, saying as he went, "Come with me."

Harry was in no mood to argue, nor to question the direction, and so followed after the man, limping down each painful step, gripping on to the handrail to try and steady himself. He paused at the end of the workbench, watching as Severus removed his outer robe and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He sorted through an assortment of vials and, without looking across to Harry, said,

"Take your shirt off."

Harry blinked for a moment before saying, "I beg your pardon?"

"I want to combine your physical therapy with something I've been working on."

He found what he was looking for and turned to face Harry, saying, "Do you remember when we were training with shield charms and your hand and arm were injured?"

Harry nodded and Severus continued, "Do you remember the mixture that I used to treat you?"

How could the man ask him that? Of course he remembered it; he remembered the feeling of Severus' strong hands massaging it into his hand, those long fingers ghosting over his flesh and making him break out in goosebumps. It had been the very thing that had been responsible for the instigation of their first kiss all those years ago, and had been the subject of many a dream since.

He said nothing, merely nodded again, and Severus picked up a jar, examining it as he said, "This is a variation of that mixture. I'm hoping that, when worked in with the muscle manipulation we've been doing that it will be of some help."

"Oh," Harry said quietly, unsure of how to react. It had been hard enough to have Severus' hands on him when he had been fully clothed, but the thought of the man touching him with nothing between them to buffer the touches was almost too much to bear.

"Come on then, shirt off and turn around," Severus said, unscrewing the lid of the jar.

 _It's not that bloody easy_ , Harry thought, but nevertheless his hands went to the buttons on his shirt and slowly started to undo them. He slid it from his shoulders and placed it on the workbench, feeling horribly exposed as he turned around and took a couple of deep breaths.

He felt Severus move to stand directly behind him and within seconds he felt the mixture on his skin, being rubbed in by deft hands. He tried not to focus on the feeling as he twisted his hands in front of himself, but it was damn near impossible. Severus moved over his lower back, applying pressure where Ron had previously instructed him to, his fingers firm as he applied the mixture he had created.

A little part of Harry's brain told him that the pain was beginning to subside, that the ache in his hips and the shooting pains down his legs were starting to ease off a little, but he could concentrate on nothing but having Severus' hands on him. It was wonderful and horrible all at once, and Harry had to fight to push down all the feelings that were threatening to come to the surface.

Severus moved up his back and Harry tried to keep his breathing under control as the motion sent chills up his spine. He shivered slightly and Severus' voice rumbled low in his ear,

"I don't remember you being so ticklish."

And there it was, the acknowledgement that neither had made so far that something had actually happened between them all those years ago, and the words hung heavily in the air. Severus' hands had stilled, one resting lightly in the small of his back, the other ghosting over his shoulder-blade.

"I…I didn't think I was," Harry said, his voice resonating horribly in his own head.

Severus' hand moved over his shoulder and Harry's eyes fluttered closed as long fingers played over the nape of his neck. He wanted to stop time, to stay in that cellar in that very moment for as long as possible, revelling in the feeling of those hands on him, pushing all other thoughts or 'what ifs' as far from his mind as possible.

He didn't want to address the painful questions that wouldn't stop resurfacing in his head, he didn't want to have difficult conversations or apportion blame for all that had happened, he just wanted to revel in the feeling of being touched by the person for whom he still held such tender feelings.

Severus wasn't massaging anymore, he was touching, moving his hand lightly over Harry's skin. Part of Harry wanted to tell him to stop, that it was too much to be reminded of the way he used to touch him, but the louder part of Harry's brain was screaming at him not to be so foolish as to relinquish the moment.

"There was a time," Severus said softly, his mouth close to Harry's ear, "when I knew every inch of your skin." His hand brushed softly down Harry's arm and he said, "Hard to believe we could be such strangers after knowing each other so…intimately."

"Are we such strangers?" Harry asked, his emotions a horrible jumble inside him.

"Aren't we?"

Harry turned around to face Severus, although it was the last thing he wanted to do. He met the man's eyes, trying not to falter under the strength of the look he was met with. His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths and he called on every ounce of courage he had ever possessed.

"I miss you," he said with a whisper. "God I miss you."

He didn't give Severus time to answer, launching himself into the man's arms and wrapping his arms around his neck as he held on tightly. He emitted a shaky breath as Severus' arms came up to hold him, wrapping him up, encircling him in warmth and safety. It wasn't like being hugged by Draco, there was nothing platonic about this hug and yet it was just as comforting, just as wonderful to be held in arms that had once been so familiar.

One of Severus' hands moved to his hair and began stroking back and forth and Harry buried his face into the man's neck, breathing in the scents that he had once known so well. "This is all such a mess. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Ssh," Severus soothed. "This won't do any good, not now."

"But it's all so – "

"I know, Harry, I know."

"I just want to go back to the way things were, before I messed everything up, before – "

"We can't go back Harry, none of us can."

* * *

 _~*~* 7 Years Earlier ~*~*_

Harry padded down the stairs softly. He hadn't had much sleep, but he wasn't really complaining about it. He had sat awake for most of the night thinking about what had had happened between him and Severus the previous night, thinking about that kiss. He tried to wipe the smile off his face; it wouldn't do any good to go into breakfast looking like a love-sick teenager…even if he was one.

"Morning," he said softly as he moved into the kitchen.

Severus looked up from reading the paper, sitting at the table with a cup of coffee at his elbow. "Good morning," he replied, and Harry didn't think he was imagining the quirk of the man's lip into a slightly teasing smile. "Coffee?" he asked, indicating the half-full cafetiere in the middle of the table.

"Thanks," said Harry, taking a seat and pouring himself a cup. He snuck a glance across at Severus, who had gone back to reading the paper, and Harry didn't have to look under the table to know that the man's legs would be crossed and he would be drawing circles with his foot.

"If you're going to stare, it's usually better to be a little more covert about it," Severus told him, continuing to study the paper.

"I wasn't staring," Harry said, feeling a blush spread over his cheeks.

Severus looked up at him and he couldn't stop himself from grinning, earning himself a slightly amused look in response.

"So what's on the agenda for today then?" he asked, trying to sound like a confident, professional adult rather than the immature teenager he felt he was.

"More training with shield charms," Severus replied, folding the paper and laying it to one side. "Is your arm alright to train?"

Harry flexed his fingers and looked down at his hand, nodding and saying, "I reckon so. Anyway," he added, looking up at Severus with a grin, "if I get any pain I'm sure I can count on you to…help me out."

Severus raised an eyebrow and said smoothly, "Brat." He took a final sip of his coffee then elegantly rose to his feet. "Have some breakfast," he said, moving over to Harry, "then come and meet me outside."

Harry nodded, then, in a moment of boldness, reached out and pulled the man down into a kiss. He had clearly caught Severus by surprise and he took advantage of the fact to wind his fingers around the back of Severus' neck and deepen the kiss. It was familiar and alien all at once, and his stomach fluttered at the realisation that he could do this whenever he liked.

He pulled back, not wanting Severus to think that he was some kind of insatiable teenager, and was pleased to see that there was no hint of reproach in the man's eyes, indeed, if Harry was any judge at all he rather thought that Severus was looking at him as though he could devour him whole. The idea sent a thrill of anticipation through him, and he couldn't stop himself from grinning.

Severus raised an eyebrow and straightened back up, eventually finding his voice and saying, "If you think such actions will make me go easier on you in training then you can think again."

"Bring it on," Harry said, squaring his shoulders, "I can take you."

He was soon to realise that Severus had in no way been joking, and the training session they embarked upon that morning was intense and difficult. His hand and arm were still aching, and every now and again the sharp, unforgiving pain would shoot through his nerves and halt proceedings, but he was determined to keep going.

He wanted to prove to Severus that not only was he strong enough to withstand the hindrance, but that he had the magical competence to learn the new defensive tactics he was being presented with. He couldn't help but feel inadequate next to Severus; the man had so much more experience in…well, in everything, and Harry felt the need to show him that he could measure up to his standards, that, as he began to leave his teenage years behind him and truly enter adulthood, he could meet the man as his equal.

The shield charms that Severus was teaching him were some of the most powerful and advanced magic that Harry had ever learnt. He could liken it to learning how to cast a Patronus; the effort involved and the intensity of the magic he could feel coursing through him was comparable, but he had to admit, he would take casting the silvery stag any day over throwing up the complicated charms that he was being instructed in.

He had to anticipate the type of curse that Severus was about to send his way and he had a split second to decide which shield charm would serve him best. Each one required exact and precise wand movement and Harry struggled each time to get it perfect. He could manage an adequate enough shield to slow down the force of Severus' attacks, managing to deflect the initial impact of each curse, but he couldn't hold it long enough to protect himself from subsequent attacks.

He stood with his hands on his knees, bent over double, as he tried to catch his breath after he had spent a solid five minutes holding up a shield to repel disabling hexes. His head was swimming and his muscles ached but there was a part of him that felt exhilarated and enlivened.

"Time to call it a day I think," Severus said, and Harry felt the man's hand come to rest on his back.

Harry shook his head and said with laboured breathing, "No, no I can go again."

"Pushing yourself into a stupor will be beneficial for no one," Severus said firmly as he began to move his hand in soothing circles across Harry's back. "Besides, spare a thought for the rest of us," he added, and Harry straightened up a little to meet the man's eyes.

"Have I worn you out?" Harry asked with a grin, noting that Severus' hand had moved from his upper back to his lower back, resting there gently with delicate intimacy.

"Not yet you impertinent brat, but you put up a good fight."

Feeling bolstered by what passed as praise from Severus, Harry moved and wrapped his arms around Severus' neck, pulling himself up as close as he dared. "Does that mean you're pleased with me?" he asked.

"Let's not get carried away with ourselves," Severus said with a smirk, bringing his other arm up to fully encircle Harry, and Harry had to mentally shake himself to realise that he was actually in the man's arms. He had imagined it so many times, thought about what it might feel like to be held by him, and for it now to be a reality made his head giddy.

"You worked me hard," he told Severus, his tone teasing.

"You can take it," Severus replied, tightening his hold a little more.

"Sadist," Harry murmured before leaning forward and meeting Severus' lips with his own. It was gentle but firm, he wanted to leave Severus in no doubt as to how much he wanted it. A part of him still felt hesitant, cautious, but he wanted to be near Severus more than anything else in the world, and here, in this strange little world, he could be.

"Are we still taking this slowly?" he asked as he pulled away slightly.

The glint in Severus eyes told him how the man felt about it, but still he said, "I think it best, if only for my sanity."

"Are you saying that I'll drive you mad?"

"You're already doing that," Severus said in a low growl. "Harry, I…I would be lying if said that I didn't want to take things further. The…attraction I feel for you is very strong and every instinct I have wants me to act on that, but I don't want to ruin something that could be…more than just physical."

Harry's stomach flipped over at Severus' words and he knew he hadn't managed to hide his surprise, as the next thing Severus said was, "Of course, if that's not what you want then I – "

Harry could think of nothing clever enough to say to dissuade that train of thought and so simply pulled Severus back into another kiss, hoping it was persuasive enough to make the man realise that he was very much onboard with that proposition.

"I don't want to jeopardise this either," he said softly as he pulled back. "And I don't want this to just be about…falling into bed together, although," he added with a sly smile, "I do hope that will happen at some point."

Severus mirrored his expression and said, "I guarantee your patience will be rewarded…as will mine."

* * *

The days passed in a hazy blur to Harry. He felt as though he was existing in another universe to the one he had been used to, one in which both he and the man he had thought he had known were different.

He was learning new things about his co-habitant every day, and the more he learnt, the more he liked. Severus had a playful sense of humour that he would never have imagined the serious man possessing, and he enjoyed the verbal sparring that they soon fell to engaging in.

The weight that had been lifted from Severus' shoulders with the cessation of his spying activities had allowed the man a freedom that he hadn't had in years, and Harry felt privileged to be the one to witness the transformation that that brought. He was, in many ways, still the same man that Harry known for all these years prior; he was controlled and measured, he guarded himself and his thoughts carefully and he would never give his time to those he thought unworthy of it.

Harry saw though that there was a lot more beyond that, beyond the acerbic and sometimes unpleasant man that so many people thought he was. He genuinely cared about Harry's training, and now that he didn't have to play the perfect Head of Slytherin, Harry could see that somewhere deep inside the man was a good teacher. He was capable of patience, sometimes more than Harry thought he could show if their positions were reversed, and he had a measured and encouraging way of explaining things that made Harry drink in the knowledge that Severus imparted.

They continued their tuition in Potions, and Harry learnt more in those little sessions in the cellar than he had done in nearly seven years of education in the subject. He found himself interested for the first time in learning all the complexities of the brewing process and he felt a growing confidence in his abilities.

The time in the cellar wasn't always spent peering into a cauldron, however, and despite their agreement to take things slowly, neither man could quite resist the opportunity to slide their arms around the other's waist and indulge in a few slow, languid kisses. Knowing that they wouldn't have to lead anywhere was somewhat liberating, and Harry enjoyed being able to accustom himself to being in Severus' arms, to the feeling of being kissed in such a way that took his breath away each time.

He wasn't sure how long either of them could stick to their 'no further than kissing' agreement. He could feel his attraction to the man growing each day, and his dreams about being taken to bed and taken completely were increasing in frequency and intensity. He had to admit though, taking things slowly was the sensible course of action. He had never been with anyone physically before, indeed he had very little experience beyond a quick fumble, and although he wanted more with Severus, he was still apprehensive about the matter.

What struck him most about their arrangement to go cautiously was the reason that Severus had given him that he wanted to see if they could have a relationship that went beyond sex. It had made his breath catch in his throat at the time, and the more he had thought about it, the more he had been amazed by it. Severus wanted him, and not just for one night, for one roll in the sack, he wanted _him_ , all of him. That thought was one that put a smile on his face and keep it there for the days after the declaration. He had no idea if such a thing could work between them, but he damn well wanted to try.

"You're not helping," Harry told Severus as he felt the man's arms wind around his waist, impeding his movements as he tried to prepare dinner.

"I'm not trying to," Severus replied as he began to press firm and deliberate kisses to the column of Harry's throat.

Harry suppressed a smile and tried to adopt the same severe tone that Severus used whenever Harry would try and delay their training sessions by enticing him into a moment of passion. "You'll ruin dinner," Harry said, trying to keep the smile from his voice.

"Mm, forget dinner," Severus said as he continued to worry the flesh beneath his lips.

"You won't be saying that in an hour when you're hungry," said Harry, horribly aware that he sounded like Molly Weasley, and not remotely believing in his own resolve to stop Severus' ministrations.

"It'll keep," Severus insisted as his hands began to rove over Harry's torso.

Harry laughed and said, "What would you know about it? You're a hopeless cook."

"I don't need to cook when I have my own little house elf in residence."

"Take that back," Harry said, turning around in Severus' arms, branding the wooden spoon he had been using, which was covered in the tomato sauce he'd been making.

"Or else?" Severus taunted, a teasing glint in his eye.

Harry grinned and landed a dollop of sauce on the end of Severus' nose, but wasn't quick enough to stop Severus from wrenching the spoon out of his hand and smearing a line of sauce all the way from his forehead down to his top lip.

"You dirty rotten Slytherin," Harry laughed as he tried to reach for a new weapon but was held firm in Severus' hold. The man possessed a great deal of strength, more than his wiry frame told of, and Harry struggled against him as they continued to fight.

"You shouldn't start fights you have no hope of winning," Severus told him smoothly before leaning down to capture Harry's lips.

All thoughts of fighting back flew out of Harry's head, and he wrapped his arms around Severus' neck as he pulled his body up against the man's. The contact was delicious, and he couldn't help but imagine how much better it would feel without the barrier of clothes in the way. One of Severus' hands snuck beneath his shirt and he felt a jolt of electricity had shoot through him as the man's fingers traced across his skin.

"I'm not going to be able to carry on with this slow approach if you keep touching me like that," he said breathlessly, and the look in Severus' eyes told him that Severus was in a similar boat.

Harry moved his hands to the buttons of Severus' shirt and paused to allow Severus the opportunity to stop him before he began to undo the first couple. "Fancy continuing this somewhere a little more comfortable?" he asked with far more confidence than he truly felt, looking up at Severus through his lashes.

"Are you sure?" Severus asked, holding him gently at the small of his back.

Harry felt a blush creep over his cheeks and he teased his fingers lightly over Severus' collarbone, watching them as they moved. "I know I don't want this to stop," he said softly. "I don't want to go back to my room alone and try to sleep while I pretend I'm not thinking about you…like I have been doing for months," he confessed, forcing himself to look up and meet the man's eyes.

The expression there was unreadable, as it so often was, but Harry felt himself being pulled a little closer. "We can go upstairs," he said softly, and Harry felt a significant amount of butterflies settle in the pit of his stomach. He knew they wouldn't be able to stop themselves forever, and whilst he could see the sense in moving with caution, the chaste touches and kisses that they had been indulging in weren't going to continue to be enough.

"Ok," he said with a shy smile and Severus nodded. He reached for a cloth and cleaned the mess from both their faces before taking Harry's hand and leading him out of the kitchen and slowly up the stairs. Harry felt his nerves jangle within him, but he was damned if he was going to let them get in the way of something he had wanted for so long.

"Your room?" Severus asked, and Harry nodded, thinking that he would feel a little more in control if he was in familiar territory. Severus led him into the bedroom and Harry closed the door behind them, not really knowing why he was bothering, they were alone in the little cottage after all. Severus let his hand go and they stood opposite each other as Severus waved his hand towards the candles, sputtering them into life and bathing them both in warm, gentle light.

They were standing close to one another and Harry could feel his heart start to thud within his chest. He had imagined this moment so many times, but he hadn't ever thought that it would happen and so he had never imagined how nervous he would feel.

"We don't have to do anything if you don't want to," Severus said gently.

"I do want to," Harry said with a smile, "it's just…I haven't ever done this before," he said as a blush spread across his cheeks. Harry could see the surprise on Severus' face and he felt compelled to say, "I just…haven't had the opportunity, what with everything being so…"

"Harry you don't need to explain yourself to me," Severus said with a shake of his head, "I was just a little surprised that someone as…enticing as yourself hadn't been with anyone."

Harry shrugged, baffled at being referred to as enticing but charmed by it nevertheless. "The opportunity just never came up…at least…not with anyone that I didn't think would sell the story to the highest bidder the next morning."

"Ah," Severus said with an understanding nod, "I see." He placed his hand on Harry's cheek and Harry felt his stomach flutter at the tender gesture, knowing that he was making the right choice. "And are you sure that you want me to be the one to – "

"Yes," Harry said with a smile before the man could finish. "I trust you," he said softly, "and what's more, I haven't thought about anything else for months now. If you only knew how much I've wanted this."

Severus's eyebrow arched and he said, "Months?"

Harry nodded, feeling slightly embarrassed at his admission but pleased at having made it nevertheless. "You have no idea how many times I've imagined this moment."

"No pressure then?" Severus asked wryly, and Harry laughed softly before stepping forward and winding his arms around Severus' neck, pulling the man down into a soft kiss. Severus responded eagerly, and Harry felt strong arms hold him closely, pulling him up against a firm chest. He revelled in the feeling, overwhelmed by the smell of the man's soap mingled with the potions ingredients he had come to be familiar with, loving how right it felt to be in the man's arms as he held him.

His fingers went to the buttons on Severus' shirt, and he continued the job he had started earlier, slowly unbuttoning them until eventually he could slide the garment from Severus' shoulders. He pulled back slightly so he could get a good look at the man who had been the subject of so many of his late-night thoughts.

Severus' body was as he remembered from the night he had sat in Grimmauld Place as Ron patched him up, and Harry's eyes went to the scar just below the man's ribs. He reached out and ran his fingertips along it lightly, feeling Severus shiver slightly beneath his touch. He looked up and met Severus' eyes as he said softly,

"I remember when you got this."

"It's etched rather well in my mind too," Severus said with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"I don't suppose we'd be here without it. Still, it was a rather extreme way to get me on my own," Harry said with a grin, feeling some of the tension leave his body as he did so.

"Brat," Severus murmured, placing his hand on Harry's cheek and leaning down for another kiss. It felt natural to Harry, despite the flutter of nerves that were still assaulting his stomach, and as his lips moved against Severus', the action chased away all other thoughts from his head.

One of Severus' hands made its way underneath his t-shirt and a thrill of anticipation shot up his spine as the man's long fingers teased over his skin. He broke away from the kiss long enough to wrench the shirt off over his head, winding his arms around Severus' neck once again and pressing their naked torsos up against one another as Severus' hands roved up and down his sides. The man dipped his head and moved his lips to the nape of Harry's neck, Harry emitting a shuddering breath as he did so.

No one had ever touched him like this before, he had never been in this situation, and for it to be Severus that he was sharing it with was somewhat overwhelming. He had no experience in these matters, and beyond the dirty magazines Ron had leant him once, he had very little idea what he was doing. He knew the basic mechanics, he knew the kinds of things that people got up to in the bedroom, he wasn't totally naïve, but he suddenly felt very aware that he could be an earth-shattering disappointment to the man who was exploring his body with such certainty.

Severus seemed to sense his sudden hesitancy and he pulled back slightly, his fingers teasing gently across the back of Harry's neck. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to."

"I do want to," Harry insisted. "I'm just…I'm a little nervous. I don't want to disappoint you."

"Harry," Severus said with such softness that it made Harry's breath catch, "you could never disappoint me. Just relax, let me lead."

Harry took a deep breath and nodded with a smile. "Ok, you leading is good."

Severus pressed a soft kiss to his lips then took his hand and led him over to the bed, lowering him onto it gently. "We can always stop," he said gently, "you don't have to do anything you don't feel comfortable with."

Harry nodded and Severus lowered his head to lay a trail of featherlight kissed along Harry's throat, down over his collarbone and along his chest. Harry closed his eyes and focused on enjoying the man's attentions. He was still nervous but he felt the feeling subside somewhat as Severus teased his exposed flesh, his hands caressing as he kissed further down Harry's torso.

Harry felt torn between the pleasure he was experiencing under Severus' strong hands and the feeling of slight absurd disbelief that the fantasies he had indulged in for so long were now coming true. He had imagined this so many times, he had imagined how it might feel to be beneath Severus, to give himself up entirely to the man, and now that it was really happening, a part of his brain simply didn't believe it.

Severus had moved lower and Harry's nerves fluttered once again as he realised that the man's hands were now on his jeans. Severus looked up and Harry met his eyes, nodding his consent as a blush spread across his cheeks. Severus undid the button then slowly unzipped the jeans, and Harry tilted his hips up to let Severus pull them and his underwear down and off. He watched as Severus' eyes raked over the entirety of his body, and he felt immensely self-conscious and exposed.

Black eyes looked up to meet his again and he tried to take a couple of deep breaths to steady himself. "Harry," Severus said, his voice low but with a unique softness to it, "you have no reason to blush, you're exquisite."

Harry bit his lip and smiled in spite of himself. A small voice in the back of his mind was telling him that Severus had only said it to mollify him, but the look in the man's eyes as he took in the sight of him was unmistakable. Severus lowered his head and Harry almost jumped out of his skin as he took Harry's bobbing erection into his mouth. No one had ever done that to him before and the sensation was overwhelming.

Severus moved up and down with his mouth and Harry grabbed hold of the bedding beneath him as pleasure rolled through him. Severus had brought his tongue into play and was swirling around the head of his cock each time his mouth moved upwards, then using the flat of his tongue as he moved downwards. He gripped the bedding harder as his body involuntarily arched upwards, pushing himself deeper into the warm wetness that was driving him insane.

The pressure was delicious, with a teasing amount of sucking and licking to play around with his senses. Harry's embarrassment was trying to win over, to make him feel discomfited with what was happening, but the sheer pleasure that he was deriving from it was all-encompassing. Severus brought his hand up to wrap around the base of Harry's cock, stroking it in time with the rhythm of his mouth, and Harry's head fell backwards as he closed his eyes against the onslaught of sensation.

It was all too much for him and he could feel the pleasure build, feel the tension coil in his stomach as his groin felt as though it had been set on fire. He tried to say something, to warn Severus, but all he could do was emit a low groan as he came hard. He had expected Severus to pull away but he kept his mouth around Harry for the whole thing, continuing to suck and swallow until he was completely spent.

He lay back against the bed, slowly loosening his grip on the sheets as he tried to get his senses under control once again. He had never felt anything like it, he had never had such a powerful orgasm and he realised that the moments spent in the dark with his right hand utterly paled in comparison. His eyes only opened again when he felt long fingers brush the hair from his forehead and he saw Severus leaning on one elbow, looking down at him with a gentle smile. It was such an alien expression but it looked utterly beautiful on the man's face.

"If you had any doubt you were in bed with a virgin, how quickly I just came should have proved it," Harry said with a blush and Severus laughed softly.

"I'm taking it as a compliment," he said, his voice low.

"You should," Harry assured him, "that was fucking amazing." He looked down to see that Severus was still in his trousers, and that there was a very obvious bulge that needed attention. "I want to…I want to do the same thing to you," he said, cursing himself for feeling so embarrassed.

"You don't have to," Severus told him, and Harry reached up to brush his fingers against Severus' cheek.

"I want to," he said firmly. "I want to touch you."

Severus leant down and placed a gentle kiss to his lips, and Harry could taste himself in the kiss, wondering if he would be able to do the same and swallow as Severus had done. Severus pulled back then stood up, dispensing himself of his trousers and underwear and chucking them in the corner of the room. Harry took the opportunity to take in the sight of the man, and he felt a thrill of arousal rush through him as he drank in his fill.

The man was wiry and thin, a little too thin around the hips, but his arms and shoulders showed sinewy muscles beneath pale and surprisingly smooth skin. Dark hair began just below his navel and lay a trail that Harry followed all the way down to his groin, his eyes falling on the proud and prominent erection. He had never touched another besides his own, but suddenly he couldn't think of anything he wanted to do more.

He reached out and pulled Severus back down onto the bed and met him with a kiss, allowing one hand to rove over the body beneath him, revelling in being able to touch where he had wanted to for so long. His tongue met Severus' as the man deepened the kiss forcefully and he allowed his hand to travel lower until it wrapped around the firm erection.

He began to move up and down in certain strokes, feeling his nerves subside somewhat. He knew what he liked when he did it himself, he knew what to do to elicit his own pleasure and he was sure that Severus' own preferences couldn't be so very different. He broke away from the kiss to murmur a charm that Ron had told him about years ago and his palm became coated in a viscous lubricant.

Severus groaned in approval and Harry felt encouraged as he began to apply a little firmer pressure, moving his hand up and down, rolling his palm over the head as he himself enjoyed. He wanted to do more though, he wanted to please Severus in the way that he had pleased him, and he broke the kiss to move his lips to the man's throat, snaking downwards over the smooth chest.

He was becoming more certain in his actions, and he felt that his trusty instinct was finally coming into play. This was not something that needed overthinking, he didn't need to pick it apart and analyse it, he just needed to go along with the rhythms that he been set and with what felt good both to give and receive. He moved lower until he reached his destination, and without giving it too much thought, wrapped his mouth around the waiting cock.

He decided to use his tongue first of all before he tried anything too adventurous, and he made a few licks and swipes, gratified by the hitch of breath he could hear from above his head. He held the base of Severus' cock firmly with his hand, both for Severus' pleasure and to steady things for himself in order to move his tongue up and down the column, alternating between the front and back of his tongue to try and give the man different sensations.

It seemed to be doing the job, and when he closed his mouth fully around the jutting erection, he felt a hand come to twine in his hair, bolstering his confidence greatly. He knew enough to cover his teeth, and he did so as he began to suck a little as he moved up and down. He tried to mimic the actions that Severus had used on him and found that it came quite naturally, and that, as his ministrations went on, he was actually starting to enjoy it.

His jaw ached a little and he had to remind himself to continue to breathe through his nose, but he was enjoying what he was doing. He remembered something he had read in one of the magazines Ron had loaned him years ago and he lowered his mouth until the head of Severus' cock nudged the back of his throat. It was an odd sensation, but he realised that he could control his reflexes quite well, and so he repeated the action several times until he heard Severus say in a breathy moan,

"Christ Harry."

It was as unguarded and uncontrolled as Harry had ever heard the man be, and he felt a thrill go through him at the thought that he had been able to reduce the man to such a state. He continued to take Severus to the back of his throat and added in a couple of hums for good measure, feeling the hand in his hair tighten as Severus' body began to tense.

"Harry, you need to move, I'm close," Severus said, but Harry had no intention of moving. He wanted to do exactly what Severus had done and so quickened his pace a little, letting his hand move in more insistent strokes, listening as Severus' breathing became more erratic. Before he knew it, the hand in his hair was gripping hard and Harry found his mouth full of Severus' release. It was an entirely alien sensation, but he did his best to maintain his composure and swallow everything, despite the odd taste.

He allowed himself a moment before he moved back up the bed and came to lie next to Severus, who tilted his head on the pillow to look across at him. "That was your first time doing that?" he asked, and Harry nodded shyly. "Fucking hell," he breathed, and Harry's face split into a grin. He moved to tuck himself into Severus' side and he rested his head on the man's shoulder as an arm came to rest around his shoulders. "You'll be the death of me," Severus said, his voice tired.

"I bloody well hope not," Harry said as he allowed his hand to trace patterns across Severus' chest. "If we don't do that a lot more, I'll be seriously pissed off."

Severus laughed and pulled Harry a little closer, placing a kiss to the top of his head. Harry smiled sleepily and wondered if perhaps Severus might let him stay the night. His question was answered when he heard Severus summon the duvet from the other bedroom, not wishing to disrupt their comfortable position by hoisting the other duvet out from underneath them.

He nestled into Severus' hold, feeling that he needed someone to pinch him to help him determine whether or not this was actually happening. It all felt too surreal, and the horribly cynical part of his brain that existed to remind him that his life was never that perfect whispered that there was no way it could last.

* * *

 **AN:** So, I should probably explain that this fic is quite personal to me as I suffer from a chronic pain condition. It impacts my life quite badly, although thankfully I'm still able to work (mostly from home these days) and I can still do the things that I love. However, some days are really bloody difficult and I get angry and resentful at my own body and I have to try and find ways to work through that and come to terms with my own limitations. Being in pain almost constantly is really really hard to deal with and it can turn you into a nasty person if you let it. It's exhausting and demoralising, but there are ways of coping and I'm very lucky to have a very good support network around me.

I guess that, in a way, this fic is my way of addressing some of those issues and also perhaps letting others know what it's like to live like that day after day. If anyone has any questions or would like to talk to me about your own experiences with these kinds of illnesses, then please PM me, I'm happy to talk about it.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed the new chapter. Please drop me a review and let me know, Cithara xx


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